


Hazel Hatter and The order of the Phoenix

by Amelia_Ponds_Glasses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 86,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6684019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Ponds_Glasses/pseuds/Amelia_Ponds_Glasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please not the ONLY character that I own is HAZEL HATTER, all other characters belong to JK ROWLING!</p><p> </p><p>This writing is the story of Harry potter and the order of the Phoenix, as told by his best friend, Hazel Hatter. This includes Hazel's emotions, feelings, and shocks about herself.</p><p>Please leave a comment! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hazel Hatter was sitting on a canopy bed, talking with Hermione Granger about the upcoming school year. "You don't suppose the defense against the dark arts teacher will be Moody this year, do you?" Asked Hazel. "No. I don't think Moody has enough trust in anyone to apply for that again." Said Hermione. "I'm just hoping it's not Snape." Said Hazel, as she made an attempt to pull her long, curly, black hair back into a pony tail, unfortunately the band snapped though. Hazel heard the sound of foot steps in the hallway, then a second later the bedroom door opened. A tall skinny, messy black haired, green eyed, round glasses wearing boy, with a lighting shaped scar on his forehead, stood before them. Hazel jumped up, but Hermione was quicker, she flung herself around his neck. “HARRY! Ron, he’s here, Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless —but we couldn’t tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t, oh, we’ve got so much to tell you, and you’ve got to tell us —the dementors! When we heard —and that Ministry hearing —it’s just outrageous, I’ve looked it all up, they can’t expel you, they just can’t, there’s provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations —”  
“Let him breathe, Hermione,”said Ron, grinning, closing the door behind Harry. Hazel stood staring at her best friends, then ran forward, and pushed Ron out of the way, flinging her arms around Harry. "Its brilliant to see you." She said, squeezing him. "You too." He replied, hugging her. She let go after a moment. Hermione, still beaming, before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry’s shoulder. “Hedwig!” The snowy owl clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers. “She’s been in a right state,” said Ron. “Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this —” He showed Harry the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut. “Oh yeah,” Harry said. “Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know . . .”  
“We wanted to give them to you, mate." said Ron. Hazel frowned, feeling slightly ashamed. “Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you’d do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us —”  
“—swear not to tell me,”said Harry. “Yeah, Hermione’s already said.” There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others. “He seemed to think it was best,”said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.”  
“Right,”said Harry. “I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began. “Yeah?”said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?”  
“Well, no —but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time —” Said Hazel, wringing her hands.  
“Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said , his voice sounding slightly strained. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?”  
“He was so angry,”said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.”  
“Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”  
“Aren’t you . . . aren’t you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?”said Hermione quietly. “No,”Harry said defiantly He walked away from them, looking around, with Hedwig nestled contentedly on his shoulder. “So why’s Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?”Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual. “Did you —er —bother to ask him at all?” He glanced up just in time to see the three them exchanging a look. “We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on,” said Ron. “We did, mate. But he’s really busy now, we’ve only seen him twice since we came here and he didn’t have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted —”  
“He could still’ve kept me informed if he’d wanted to,”Harry said shortly. “You’re not telling me he doesn’t know ways to send messages without owls.” Hermione glanced at Ron and then said, “I thought that too. But he didn’t want you to know anything.”  
“Maybe he thinks I can’t be trusted,”said Harry, watching their expressions. "Shut up! That's not the case." Said Hazel, scowling towards him. "No, really it must be." Insisted Harry angrily. “Don’t be thick,” said Ron, looking highly disconcerted. “Or that I can’t take care of myself —”  
“Of course he doesn’t think that!”said Hermione anxiously. “So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys’ while you three get to join in everything that’s going on here?” said Harry, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice growing louder with every word. “How come you three are allowed to know everything that’s going on —?”  
“We’re not!”Ron interrupted. “Mum won’t let us near the meetings, she says we’re too young —” But before he knew it, Harry was shouting. “SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU THREE’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT —WHO SAVED THE SORCERER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED ALL YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?”  
Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off on top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads. “WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!” Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, while Hermione looked on the verge of tears, Hazel stood inches from Harry as he yelled, staring at him angrily. “BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?”  
“Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did —”Hermione began. “CAN’T’VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU’D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR —”  
“Well, he did —”  
“FOUR WEEKS I’VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT’S BEEN GOING ON —”  
"YOU ARE RIDICULOUS! YOU ARE FIFTEEN YEARS OLD, STOP THROWING A TANTRUM!" Hazel yelled. "I WOULDN'T EXPECT YOU TO UNDERSTAND, HAZEL! YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH HERE WITH THEM!" Harry replied. "NO I HAVEN'T! DUMBLEDORE FORGOT ABOUT ME! I HAVE BEEN IN LONDON FROM THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER! I WAS ONLY REMEMBERED BECAUSE OF YOU! I AM A DAMNED EXTRA!"  
"AT LEAST YOU WEREN'T CUT OFF FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD!"  
"I WAS! HERMIONE AND RON COULDN'T SEND ME ANY OWLS BECAUSE I WAS ON MY OWN, AND THERE WAS A LARGE CHANCE MY OWLS WOULD GET INTERCEPTED! EVERYDAY I WAS THE ONLY THING PROTECTING MY FAMILY, BECAUSE ALL THE SECURITY WAS FOCUSED ON YOU!"  
"YOU HAVE FAMILY!" Yelled Harry.  
"BARELY! THEY ARE AFRAID OF MY MAGIC! IF THEY SEE ME THEY FLINCH! THEY WON'T EVEN LET ME AROUND MY NEW BABY SISTER! YOU DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT THATS LIKE! WANTING TO SEE YOUR NEW SISTER BUT YOUR WHOLE FAMILY IS AFRAID YOU MIGHT SCREW UP AND KILL HER!" Hazel roared back. "And you think everyone of my summers are so great..." she mumbled, then she fled from the room, slamming the door behind her. A second later she heard the sound of someone banging this first on the door, maybe out of frustration. She ignored him, and walked through the hallway and over to the stairs were Ginny Weasley was standing with an armful of dung bombs and a worried look on her face. "What's going on in there?" She asked, looking at the door behind Hazel. "It doesn't matter. What are you doing?" Asked Hazel, in a sourced steady voice. "I-I’ve been flicking Dungbombs at the kitchen from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it." Said Ginny. "Why?" Asked Hazel. "I'm trying to break the barrier, or the sound barrier at least, so I can hear what they are saying In the meeting." Said Ginny, flicking another Dungbomb at the door, once it hit, it just soared away and splattered on the floor. "Not much success I take it?" Asked Hazel. "Nope. None." Replied Ginny. "What's a shame." Said Hazel. "Here, let me try." Said Hazel. Ginny handed her one, and Hazel chucked it at the door, it bounced back and exploded on the floor. "Hmm..." mumbled Hazel. Hazel and Ginny threw a few more Dungbombs, but with no success Ginny decided to stop. "I'm going to go say hi to Harry." Ginny said. "Ok. But beware, he's not in a great mood." Said Hazel. Ginny smiled, and walked away. Hazel let her head sink, and she began to think. I shouldn't have said anything. Harry didn't know about my life. Why should he though? She thought. I love my family. Even though they fear me, I would never hurt them. She began to remember what it was like before she got her Hogwarts letter, her mum would take her to the park every Saturday morning, then they would come home for a tea party. Her dad would take her to the petting zoo once a month were she would have ice cream with him. But since she turned eleven it's like her parents don't see her the same. They avoid her room, were her spell books, and robes are, and they flinch of they see her wand. And ever since they had Poppy Hazel hasn't been allowed near her. But even though they treat her the way they do, she knows some where, deep down, they still love her. But that doesn't stop her from hurting every time they flinch at her sight, and it doesn't make her feel better when they rush away with Poppy when she enters the room. After another ten minutes of listening to quiet chatting from the bedroom the kitchen door opened, Hazel quickly crouched down and turned her back so the members of the Order couldn't see her. "Why can't we just tell him? He's plenty old." Said a voice. "He is only fifteen!" Replied Mrs. Weasley's voice. "He is not an adult!"  
"Well what about Hazel? She will surely be asking questions!" Came a female voice Hazel didn't recognize. "Shes just a girl!" Said Mrs Weasley. "She is just about sixteen. She'll want to know." Said the same unknown female voice. "No! Absolutely not! Miss Hatter will go and get herself killed." Said Mad-Eye's voice. Suddenly the bedroom door opened, and Hazel turned her head around, then stood up.  
“Hold it!” Ron breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Harry and Hermione walking any farther. “They’re still in the hall, we might be able to hear something —” The Four of them looked cautiously over the banisters. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry’s guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very center of the group Hazel saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of her least favorite teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. Harry leaned farther over the banisters. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry flinch as a flesh colored sting lowered in front of his eyes. Looking up she saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear toward the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they began to move toward the front door and out of sight. “Dammit,” Harry heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again. They heard the front door open and then close. “Snape never eats here,” Ron told Harry quietly. “Thank God. C’mon.”  
“And don’t forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry,”Hermione whispered. The others went ahead but Harry grabbed Hazel's arm as she passed, and pulled her back. Harry looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he said. "And you wouldn't have. I've only ever told Hermione. I shouldn't have snapped at you for something you had no knowledge of." She admitted. "But I shouldn't have even said what I did." He replied. "Its ok. Let's just forget it." She said. "Ok." She smiled at him, and he flashed her a smile and he walked ahead. She suddenly felt weak in the knees, and she leaned against the banister. She liked Harry, a lot, last year she thought she had gotten over it but she was wrong. After Harry almost died at the claws of a dragon she realized she still liked him. They went to the Yule ball together, as friends. She hadn't ever told Harry she liked him because he liked Cho Chang, and she didn't want to ruin that for him, so she kept it between her and Hermione.  
After Hazel got control of her legs again she followed Harry, who glanced back at her to see if she was coming, they passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall they saw Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and a pink haired woman at the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind those who had just left. “We’re eating down in the kitchen,”Mrs. Weasley whispered, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly there was a small gasp and the sound of a wand dropping and Hazel looked up to see the pink haired woman gaping at her. "You're Hazel!" She exclaimed quietly. "Y-yes. Who are you?" Asked Hazel feeling a bit odd at being singled out by a woman she didn't know. "I'm Tonks..." She said. "Nice to meet you, Tonks." She said, then shifting her attention to Harry. "Let's go have dinner."  
Hazel noticed Tonks expression fall a bit, she looked a little upset.  
“Harry, Hazel, dear, if you’ll just tiptoe across the hall, it’s through this door here —” CRASH. “Tonks!”cried Mrs. Weasley exasperatedly, turning to look behind her at her. “I’m sorry!” wailed Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor. “It’s that stupid umbrella stand, that’s the second time I’ve tripped over —” But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, earsplitting, bloodcurdling screech. The moth-eaten velvet curtains flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, Hazel thought she was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured —then she realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, she had ever seen in her life. The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears. Lupin and Mrs.  
Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces. “Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —” Hazel rushed over to Tonks and helped her up, Tonks apologized over and over again, at the same time dragging the huge, heavy troll’s leg back off the floor. Mrs. Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand. Then a man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry. “Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!” he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs. Weasley had abandoned. The old woman’s face blanched. “Yoooou!” she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. “Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!”  
“I said —shut —UP!” roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again. The old woman’s screeches died and an echoing silence fell. Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Harry’s godfather, Sirius, turned to face him. “Hello, Harry, Hazel,” he said grimly, “I see you’ve met my mother.”  
Your —?” began the both of them  
“My dear old mum, yeah,”said Sirius. “We’ve been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let’s get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again.”  
“But what’s a portrait of your mother doing here?”Harry asked, bewildered, as they went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them. “Hasn’t anyone told you? This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters —about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Hazel followed Harry and his godfather to the bottom of the stairs and through a door leading into the basement kitchen. It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr. Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man, who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet. “Harry!” Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him and shaking his hand vigorously. “Good to see you!”Over his shoulder Hazel saw Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table. “Journey all right, Harry?” Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. “Mad-Eye didn’t make you come via Greenland, then?”  
“He tried,”said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately sending a candle toppling onto the last piece of parchment. “Oh no —sorry —”  
“Here, dear,”said Mrs. Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand: In the flash of light caused by Mrs. Weasley’s charm, Hazel caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building. Mrs. Weasley had seen her looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill’s heavily laden arms. “This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings,”she snapped before sweeping off toward an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates. Bill took out his wand, muttered “Evanesco!”and the scrolls vanished. “Sit down, Harry,”said Sirius. “You’ve met Mundungus, haven’t you?” The thing Hazel had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore and then jerked awake. “Some ’n say m’ name?”Mundungus mumbled sleepily. “I ’gree with Sirius . . .”He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused. Ginny giggled. “The meeting’s over, Dung,”said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. “Harry’s arrived.”  
“Eh?” said Mundungus, peering balefully at Harry through his matted ginger hair. “Blimey, so ’e ’as. Yeah . . . you all right, ’arry?”  
“Yeah,”said Harry. Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him in seconds. “Owe you a ’pology,” grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud. “For the last time, Mundungus,” called Mrs. Weasley, “will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we’re about to eat!”  
“Ah,”said Mundungus. “Right. Sorry, Molly.”The cloud of smoke vanished as Mundungus stowed his pipe back in his pocket, but an acrid smell of burning socks lingered. “And if you want dinner before midnight I’ll need a hand,”Mrs. Weasley said to the room at large. “No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you’ve had a long journey —”  
“What can I do, Molly?” said Tonks enthusiastically, bounding forward. Mrs. Weasley hesitated, looking apprehensive. “Er —no, it’s all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you’ve done enough today —”  
“No, no, I want to help!” said Tonks brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried toward the dresser from which Ginny was collecting cutlery. "Oh... uh, Tonks, dear, why not help Hazel set glasses around the table." Said Mrs Weasley, eyeing the knives Tonks had just picked up. "Oh, great!" Exclaimed Tonks, dropping the knives. Hazel was getting drinking glasses from the cabinet, she handed half of them to Tonks and they set the table, and in the process Tonks let four glasses slip from her fingers. But Tonks kept smiling back at Hazel. Hazel wondered if she had met Tonks before and she didn't remember, because Tonks sure seemed to know her. Soon a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr. Weasley, while Mrs. Weasley stirred a cauldron dangling over the fire and the others took out plates, more goblets, and food from the pantry. Hazel soon took a seat by Harry, who was talking to Mundungus and Sirius. “Had a good summer so far?” Sirius asked Harry. What kind of question is that? Hazel wondered, surely Sirius had known how Harry's summer went.  
“No, it’s been lousy,”said Harry. For the first time, something like a grin flitted across Sirius’s face. “Don’t know what you’re complaining about, myself.”  
“What?”said Harry incredulously. “Personally, I’d have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you’ve had it bad, at least you’ve been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights. . . . I’ve been stuck inside for a month.”  
“How come?”asked Harry, frowning. “Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels.”There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore’s name that told Hazel that Sirius was not very happy with the headmaster either. “At least you’ve known what’s been going on,” he said bracingly. “Oh yeah,”said Sirius sarcastically. “Listening to Snape’s reports, having to take all his snide hints that he’s out there risking his life while I’m sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time . . . asking me how the cleaning’s going —”  
“What cleaning?”asked Harry. “Trying to make this place fit for human habitation,”said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. “No one’s lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he’s gone round the twist, hasn’t cleaned anything in ages —”  
“Sirius?”said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid any attention to this conversation, but had been minutely examining an empty goblet. “This solid silver, mate?”  
“Yes,”said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. “Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest.”  
“That’d come off, though,”muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff. “Fred —George —NO, JUST CARRY THEM!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked. Harry, Hazel, Sirius, and Mundungus looked around and, a split second later, dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, a bottle of fire whiskey, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air toward them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, the bottle of whiskey shattered right were Hazel had been a moment ago and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius’s right hand had been seconds before. “FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” screamed Mrs. Weasley. “THERE WAS NO NEED —I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS —JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON’T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!”  
“We were just trying to save a bit of time!”said Fred, hurrying forward and wrenching the bread knife out of the table. “Im really sorry Hazel! I swear I'm not trying to do away with you." Said Fred, waving his wand and the glass shards dissaperated. "Sorry Sirius, mate —didn’t mean to —”Harry, Hazel, and Sirius were all laughing. Mundungus, who had toppled backward off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet. Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. "Its ok. Honest!" Laughed Hazel. “Boys,” Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, “your mother’s right, you’re supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you’ve come of age —”“—none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. “Bill didn’t feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn’t Charm everything he met! Percy —” She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden. Hazel nudged Bill, who was standing next to her, trying to mop up the butterbeer, in the side. “Let’s eat,” said Bill quickly. “It looks wonderful, Molly,”said Lupin, ladling stew onto a plate for her and handing it across the table. For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, there’s something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.”“Whatever you like,” said Sirius indifferently. “The curtains in there are full of doxies too,” Mrs. Weasley went on. “I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.”  
“I look forward to it,”said Sirius. Hazel heard the sarcasm in his voice, but she was not sure that anyone else did. Opposite Harry and Hazel, Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with a pained expression, her nose swelled to a beaklike protuberance like Snape’s, shrank to something resembling a button mushroom, and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. After Hazel gasped Harry explained she was a Metamorphmagus. Hazel watched as she did it again. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because after a while Hermione and Ginny started requesting their favorite noses. “Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks . . .” Tonks obliged. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins. “They’re not giving anything away yet,”said Bill. “I still can’t work out whether they believe he’s back or not. ’Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it.”  
“I’m sure they’d never go over to You-Know-Who,”said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head. “They’ve suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?”  
“I think it depends what they’re offered,” said Lupin. “And I’m not talking about gold; if they’re offered freedoms we’ve been denying them for centuries they’re going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?”  
“He’s feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment,”said Bill. “He hasn’t stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know —”A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill’s words. Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus were rolling around in their seats. “. . . and then,” choked Mundungus, tears running down his face, “and then, if you’ll believe it, ’e says to me, ’e says, ‘’ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? ’Cos some son of a Bludger’s gone and nicked all mine!’And I says, ‘Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you’ll be wanting some more, then?’And if you’ll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all ’is own toads back orf me for twice what ’e paid in the first place —”  
“I don’t think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus,”said Mrs. Weasley sharply, as Ron slumped forward onto the table, howling with laughter. “Beg pardon, Molly,” said Mundungus at once, wiping his eyes and winking at Harry. “But, you know, Will nicked ’em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn’t really doing nothing wrong —”  
“I don’t know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons,”said Mrs. Weasley coldly. Fred and George buried their faces in their goblets of butterbeer; George was hiccuping. For some reason, Mrs. Weasley threw a very nasty look at Sirius before getting to her feet and going to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding. Hazel and Harry looked round at Sirius. “Molly doesn’t approve of Mundungus,”said Sirius in an undertone. “How come he’s in the Order?”Harry said very quietly. “He’s useful,” Sirius muttered. “Knows all the crooks —well, he would, seeing as he’s one himself. But he’s also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don’t. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn’t forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you." He lay down his spoon in a lull in the general conversation. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed, Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal, and Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks for him to chase. “Nearly time for bed, I think,”said Mrs. Weasley on a yawn. “Not just yet, Molly,”said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. “You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.”The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Hazel associated with the arrival of dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort’s name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary. “I did!” said Harry indignantly. “I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so —”  
“And they’re quite right,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You’re too young.”She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone. “Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?”asked Sirius. “Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen —”  
"Me too! What's going on? I've had no information all summer!" Exclaimed Hazel. “Hang on!”interrupted George loudly. “How come Harry and Hazel get their questions answered?” said Fred angrily. “We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!” said George. “‘You’re too young, you’re not in the Order,’”said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother’s. “Harry’s not even of age!”  
“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,”said Sirius calmly. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —”  
“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!”said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?”  
“Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. “The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius. “I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,”said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back”(again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —"  
“He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!”said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —”  
“—and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,”said Sirius, “and more than some —”  
“No one’s denying what he’s done!”said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still —”  
“He’s not a child!”said Sirius impatiently. “He’s not an adult either!”said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not James, Sirius!”  
“I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,”said Sirius coldly. “I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!”  
“What’s wrong with that?”said Harry. "Yeah! So what?" Asked Hazel, catching Sirius's eye, who flashed a small thankful smile. “What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!”said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. “You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!”  
“Meaning I’m an irresponsible godfather?”demanded Sirius, his voice rising. “Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —”  
“We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!”said Sirius loudly. “Arthur!”said Mrs. Weasley, rounding on her husband. “Arthur, back me up!” Mr. Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he say, “Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters —”  
“Yes, but there’s a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!”  
“Personally,”said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs. Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, “I think it better that Harry, and Hazel -if she pleases, gets the facts —not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture —from us, rather than a garbled version from . . . others.” His expression was mild, but Harry felt sure that Lupin, at least, knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Mrs. Weasley’s purge. “Well,”said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, “well . . . I can see I’m going to be overruled. I’ll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry’s best interests at heart —”  
“He’s not your son,”said Sirius quietly. “He’s as good as,”said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. “Who else has he got?”  
“He’s got me!”  
“Yes,”said Mrs. Weasley, her lip curling. “The thing is, it’s been rather difficult for you to look after him while you’ve been locked up in Azkaban, hasn’t it?” Sirius started to rise from his chair. "And if your talking about family here, Mrs. Weasley, you bet your wand I will always be his family!" Said Hazel, scowling. Mrs. Weasley began to open her mouth to retaliate. “Molly, you’re not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,”said Lupin sharply. “Sirius, sit down. Hazel, back off.” Mrs. Weasley’s lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white. Hazel stopped boring her eyes into Mrs. Weasley, but instead looked at Harry, still scowling, but looking at his facial expressions; he seemed to be focusing very hard.  
“I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this,”Lupin continued. “He’s old enough to decide for himself, as is Hazel, seeing as none of you have authority over her, and she is a year away from being of age.”  
“I want to know what’s been going on,” Harry said at once. He did not look at Mrs. Weasley. "As do I!" Exclaimed Hazel.“Very well,”said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. “Ginny —Ron —Hermione —Fred —George —I want you out of this kitchen, now.” There was instant uproar. “We’re of age!” Fred and George bellowed together. “If Harry and Hazel are allowed, why can’t I?”shouted Ron. “Mum, I want to!”wailed Ginny. “NO!”shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. “I absolutely forbid —”  
“Molly, you can’t stop Fred and George,”said Mr. Weasley wearily. “They are of age —”  
“They’re still at school —”  
“But they’re legally adults now,”said Mr. Weasley in the same tired voice. Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face. “I —oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —”“Harry and Hazel'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!”said Ron hotly. “Won’t —won’t you?”he added uncertainly, meeting Hazel's eyes, then Harry’s eyes. "No doubt about it." Said Hazel, smiling. “’Course I will,” Harry said. Ron and Hermione beamed. “Fine!”shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Fine! Ginny —BED!”Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Black’s earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke. “Okay, Hazel, Harry . . . what do you want to know?” Harry took a deep breath and asked the question that had been obsessing him for a month. “Where’s Voldemort? What’s he doing? I’ve been trying to watch the Muggle news,” he said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name, “and there hasn’t been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —”  
. “That’s because there haven’t been any suspicious deaths yet,” said Sirius, “not as far as we know, anyway. . . . And we know quite a lot.”  
“More than he thinks we do anyway,”said Lupin. “How come he’s stopped killing people?”Harry asked. Hazel knew that Voldemort had murdered more than once in the last year alone. “Because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself at the moment,”said Sirius. “It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn’t come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up.”  
“Or rather, you messed it up for him,”said Lupin with a satisfied smile. “How?”Harry asked perplexedly. “You weren’t supposed to survive!”said Hazel and Sirius together. “Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he’d come back. But you survived to bear witness.”  
Hazel shuddered at the thought of Harry never coming out of that maze, she thought of Harry's cold lifeless body right next to Cedric's, never to be found...  
“And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore,”said Lupin. “And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once.”“How has that helped?”Harry asked. “Are you kidding?”said Bill incredulously. “Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!”“Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned,”said Sirius. “So what’s the Order been doing?”said Harry, looking around at them all. “Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can’t carry out his plans,”said Sirius. “How d’you know what his plans are?”Harry asked quickly. “Dumbledore’s got a shrewd idea,”said Lupin, “and Dumbledore’s shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate.”  
“So what does Dumbledore reckon he’s planning?” asked Hazel, after thinking for a moment. “Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,”said Sirius. “In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he’d bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they’ll be just one group he’s after. He’s certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters.”  
“So you’re trying to stop him getting more followers?”“We’re doing our best,”said Lupin. “How?”  
“Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard,”said Bill. “It’s proving tricky, though.”  
“Why?” asked Hazel.  
“Because of the Ministry’s attitude,”said Tonks. “You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Hazel. Well, he hasn’t shifted his position at all. He’s absolutely refusing to believe it’s happened.”“But why?”said Harry desperately. “Why’s he being so stupid? If Dumbledore —”  
“Ah, well, you’ve put your finger on the problem,”said Mr. Weasley with a wry smile. “Dumbledore.”  
“Fudge is frightened of him, you see,”said Tonks sadly. "Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry incredulously. “Frightened of what he’s up to,”said Mr. Weasley. “You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore’s plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."  
“But Dumbledore doesn’t want —” began Hazel.  
“Of course he doesn’t,”said Mr. Weasley. “He’s never wanted the Minister’s job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he’s never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.”  
“Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore’s much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,”said Lupin. “But it seems that he’s become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he’s managed to convince himself that he’s the clever one and Dumbledore’s simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.”  
“How can he think that?” said Hazel angrily. “How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up —that Harry'd make it all up?” Hazel looked at the boy that she called her best friend. And suddenly she felt uncontrollable anger towards the minister. He must be a total prat to think Harry'd make a thing like Voldemort returning up.  
“Because accepting that Voldemort’s back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn’t had to cope with for nearly fourteen years,”said Sirius bitterly. “Fudge just can’t bring himself to face it. It’s so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore’s lying to destabilize him.”  
“You see the problem,”said Lupin. “While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it’s hard to convince people he’s back, especially as they really don’t want to believe it in the first place. What’s more, the Ministry’s leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they’re calling Dumbledore’s rumor-mongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything’s happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they’re using the Imperius Curse.”  
“But you’re telling people, aren’t you?”said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin, and Tonks. “You’re letting people know he’s back?” theThey all smiled humorlessly. “Well, as everyone thinks I’m a mad mass murderer and the Ministry’s put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?”said Sirius restlessly. “And I’m not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,”said Lupin. “It’s an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.”  
“Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,”said Sirius, “and it’s very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.”  
“We’ve managed to convince a couple of people, though,”said Mr. Weasley. “Tonks here, for one —she’s too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage —Kingsley Shacklebolt’s been a real asset too. He’s in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he’s been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.”  
“But if none of you’s putting the news out that Voldemort’s back —”Harry began. “Who said none of us was putting the news out?”said Sirius. “Why d’you think Dumbledore’s in such trouble?”  
“What d’you mean?”Harry asked. “They’re trying to discredit him,”said Lupin. “Didn’t you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he’d been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he’s getting old and losing his grip, but it’s not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort’s return. They’ve demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot —that’s the Wizard High Court —and they’re talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.”“But Dumbledore says he doesn’t care what they do as long as they don’t take him off the Chocolate Frog cards,”said Bill, grinning. “It’s no laughing matter,”said Mr. Weasley shortly. “If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore’s out there and wise to what he’s up to, he’s going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore’s out of the way —well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.”“But if Voldemort’s trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it’s bound to get out that he’s come back, isn’t it?”asked Harry desperately. “Voldemort doesn’t march up to people’s houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,”said Sirius. “He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He’s well-practiced at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he’s interested in, he’s got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he’s concentrating on them at the moment.”“What’s he after apart from followers?”Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius said, “Stuff he can only get by stealth.”When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, “Like a weapon. Something he didn’t have last time.”  
“When he was powerful before?”  
“Yes.”  
“Like what kind of weapon?”said Harry. “Something worse than the Avada Kedavra —?”  
“That’s enough.”Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Hazel had not noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious. “I want you in bed, now. All of you,”she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron, Hazel, and Hermione. “You can’t boss us —”Fred began. “Watch me,” snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. “You’ve given Harry and Hazel plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct them into the Order straightaway.”  
“Why not?” said Harry quickly. “I’ll join, I want to join, I want to fight —”  
"And I do too!" Said Hazel. "I don't care if I'm of age or not! I just want to-."  
“No.” It was not Mrs. Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin. “The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,”he said. “Wizards who have left school,” he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. “There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you . . . I think Molly’s right, Sirius. We’ve said enough.”Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Hermione. One by one they stood up and Hazel, recognizing defeat, followed suit. Hazel got in her room, to meet a wide eyed Ginny. "What happened!?" Asked Ginny, jumping up and down on her knees atop the bed. "Shh. Be quiet and ill tell you." Said Hazel.

 

The next morning Hazel woke up to light pouring into her room. "Morning." Said a voice. Hazel sat up in her bed, she saw Harry in her room opening the large curtains, letting in sunlight. "What are you doing?" Asked Hazel, pushing away her blankets. “Ron told me to tell you Mrs Weasley says get up, our breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you and me in the drawing room, there are loads more doxies than she thought and she’s found a nest of dead puffskeins under the sofa.” Hazel groaned. "Shut the curtains. I'm not a morning person, you should know this by now. And don't you knock? I coulda been..." said said, her sentence trailing off into a yawn. Harry closed the curtains again. "I'll be down stairs in a few minutes." Said Hazel. "Ok. See you then." Said Harry, then he left. Hazel looked around the room, Hermione and Ginny where gone, they must have gotten up earlier than she had. She took off her long T-shirt and shorts, then got dressed into a white tank top, dark purple skirt, black boots, and a navy blue choker necklace. She brushed her hair slightly, then gave up after she had to wrestle the comb out of her hair. She grabbed her wand and walked out the door, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. "Morning." Said Ron. "Good morning." She replied, flatly, still tired. Hazel sat down at the table, next to Harry, she looked at her bowl of oatmeal and strawberries then took a slow bite. "How'd you sleep?" Asked Harry. "Great. The painting chattering all night really helped me fall asleep. It turns out Maisy's mum is too controlling, and Tabitha wants Jo to be her maid of honor at her wedding." Said Hazel, rubbing her head. "And Darla apparently talked to Jacob when she knew Jo liked him." Ron and Harry snickered. "I'm taking the pictures out of my room." Said Hazel, then she quickly finished her breakfast. Hazel, Harry, and Ron entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive-green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss-green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar, as they had tied cloths over their noses and mouths. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end. “Cover your faces and take a spray,”Mrs. Weasley said to Harry, Hazel, and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to three more bottles of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. “It’s Doxycide. I’ve never seen an infestation this bad —what that house-elf’s been doing for the last ten years —”Hermione’s face was half concealed by a tea towel but Hazel distinctly saw her throw a reproachful look at Mrs. Weasley at these words. “Kreacher’s really old, he probably couldn’t manage —”  
“You’d be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,”said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. Hazel gaped at it. “I’ve just been feeding Buckbeak,” he added, in reply to Hazel's horrified look. “I keep him upstairs in my mother’s bedroom. Anyway . . . this writing desk . . .”He dropped the bag of rats onto an armchair, then bent over to examine the locked cabinet which, Harry now noticed for the first time, was shaking slightly. “Well, Molly, I’m pretty sure this is a boggart,”said Sirius, peering through the keyhole, “but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out —knowing my mother it could be something much worse.”  
“Right you are, Sirius,”said Mrs. Weasley. They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Hazel quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before. A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand. “I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!” said Sirius exasperatedly, hurrying back out of the room. They heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs. Black’s screeches echoed up through the house once more: “Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth . . .”  
“Close the door, please, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley. Harry took as much time as he dared to close the drawing room door; Hazel was sure he wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mother’s portrait because she had stopped screaming. She heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice she recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt’s saying, “Hestia’s just relieved me, so she’s got Moody’s cloak now, thought I’d leave a report for Dumbledore . . .” And after a moment Harry closed the drawing room door and rejoined the doxy party. Mrs. Weasley was bending over to check the page on doxies in Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa. “Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because doxies bite and their teeth are poisonous. I’ve got a bottle of antidote here, but I’d rather nobody needed it.”She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains, and beckoned them all forward. “When I say the word, start spraying immediately,” she said. “They’ll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyze them. When they’re immobilized, just throw them in this bucket.” She stepped carefully out of their line of fire and raised her own spray. “All right —squirt!”Hazel had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully grown doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetlelike wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairylike body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny fists clenched with fury. "BLOODY HELL!" Yelled Hazel as three more flew at her, then she caught them full in the face with a blast of Doxycide; they froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud thunk, onto the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket. “Fred, what are you doing?” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. “Spray that at once and throw it away!” Hazel looked around. Fred was holding a struggling doxy between his forefinger and thumb. “Right-o,”Fred said brightly, spraying the doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs. Weasley’s back was turned he pocketed it with a wink. “We want to experiment with doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes,”George told Hazel and Harry under his breath. Deftly spraying two doxies at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “What are Skiving Snackboxes?”“Range of sweets to make you ill,” George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs. Weasley’s back. “Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They’re double-ended, color-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you’ve been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half —”  
“‘—which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom.’ That’s what we’re putting in the adverts, anyway,” whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs. Weasley’s line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray doxies from the floor and adding them to his pocket. “But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping puking long enough to swallow the purple end.”  
“Testers?”  
"I might help you with many things, but this, my wonderful twins, is not one of them." Said Hazel.  
“We mean us,”said Fred. “We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies —we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat —”  
“Mum thought we’d been dueling,”said George. "Dueling, I'd wager Fred would win that one." Mumbled Hazel, then she left them to talk, she fixed the nozzle of the spray bottle and went back to freezing Doxies. They flew from all directions, big and repulsive. Hazel squirted as many as she could. She noticed a particularly large one with a mail knife flying towards her. "It's got a weapon!" Yelled Hazel, she dodged out of the way, falling flat onto some one. She scrambled to get back up, her glasses got knocked off in to collision. "I am so sorry." She said, groping for her glasses. "It's ok." Said Harry's voice. "Harry." Said Hazel quietly, she jumped off him, scrambling backwards. "Sorry, I...I didn't mean too." Said Hazel, backing into Hermione. "Oh, sorry." Said Hazel, trying to blindly help her up. "I'm fine." Said Hermione, standing back up. "Here are your glasses." Said Harry's voice again. Harry slid her glasses on her face. "Thanks. I'll be right... back in a moment." She said, then she ran out of the room, and down the hall. She stared in the big silver mirror that hung on the walls in the hallway. I am an idiot. She thought to herself. I fell on top of Harry, scrambled away, knocked over Hermione, and ran out of the room like a total moron. She knocked her head against the wall. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." She muttered. She straightened up and took a deep breath. She turned to walk back to the room, and ran into someone. "God!" She yelled, rubbing her forehead where she ran into the person. "Hi." Said Harry, smiling. "Oh. Hi." She said, then she walked past him. "What where you ramming your head against the wall for?" he asked, catching up. "Fun." She answered, sarcastically. "Mm-hmm." He answered. "Why have you been ignoring me?" Asked Harry. "What'dya mean?" She asked. "You've barely said two full civilized sentences to me." Said Harry. "Sorry to hurt your feelings." Replied Hazel. "Really, what's wrong?" Asked Harry, grabbing her shoulder. Hazel stopped and shook his arm off her shoulder. "Harry, how's Cho?" Asked Hazel, still not facing him. "W-who?" He asked. Hazel scoffed and walked away, she joined Hermione in freezing more Doxies. The de-doxying of the curtains took most of the morning, and Hazel didn't utter a word to Harry. It was past midday when Mrs. Weasley finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair, and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying; unconscious doxies lay crammed in the bucket at the foot of them beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks. “I think we’ll tackle those after lunch.”Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with ancient runes, and international languages such as Japanese, Korean, and Indian and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Hazel was quite sure was blood. The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley. “Stay here,”she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs. Black’s screeches started up again from down below, Hazel rushed away to shut her up. She tried to clamp the curtains shut. "BE QUIET YOU OLD HAG!" Yelled Hazel. She finally shut them, then turned to the door and flung it open. Mundungus stood on the door step, holding an armful of cauldrons balanced incredibly carefully, almost defying gravity. "What are those?" Asked Hazel, knowing perfectly well what they where and why they where here. "I was wonderin' if I might be able to store these things here." He said, trying his hardest to sound more civilised than usual. "Dung, I'm going to ask you a question. And I really hope you know the right answer." Said Hazel. Mundungus nodded. "Are they stolen?" Asked Hazel. "Well... Er... not exactly." He said. "Oh my-." Hazel said, exasperated. "Uh, Hazel dear, please go upstairs." Mrs Weasley said, as she turned up behind Hazel. Hazel glared good and long at Mundungus then walked passed Mrs Weasley, smiling to her. Hazel ran upstairs to find everyone huddled around the window looking out on the front steps. "He's hauling bloody black market cauldrons into the house!" Exclaimed Hazel. Everyone whirled around. "I swear he is an idiot, it's like he's trying to have us all arrested." Said Hazel, noticing she sounded a lot more like Mrs Weasley than she would like. “Really? Can’t hear properly . . . d’you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?”  
“Might be worth it,” said George. “I could sneak upstairs and get a pair —”  
But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of them could hear exactly what Mrs. Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice. “WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!”  
Hazel began to laugh madly at the yelling.  
“I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else,”said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs. Weasley’s voice to permeate the room better. “It makes such a nice change.”  
“—COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN’T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE —”“The idiots are letting her get into her stride,”said George, shaking his head. “You’ve got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she’s been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry —and there goes Sirius’s mum again —”Mrs. Weasley’s voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall. George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room. Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery gray, and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike. The elf took absolutely no notice of Hazel and the rest. Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, toward the far end of the room, muttering under its breath all the while in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrog’s, “. . . Smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she’s no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my Mistress’s house, oh my poor Mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they’ve let in her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do . . .”  
“Hello, Kreacher,”said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap. The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and then gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise. “Kreacher did not see Young Master,” he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, “Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is.”  
“Sorry?” said George. “Didn’t catch that last bit.”“Kreacher said nothing,” said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, “and there’s its twin, unnatural little beasts they are.” Hazel didn’t know whether to laugh or or club it. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all very malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter. “. . . and there’s the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my Mistress knew, oh how she’d cry, and there’s a new boy, Kreacher doesn’t know his name, what is he doing here, Kreacher doesn’t know . . .”  
“This is Harry, Kreacher,”said Hermione tentatively. “Harry Potter.” Kreacher’s pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. “The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher’s Mistress saw him in such company, oh what would she say —”  
“Don’t call her a Mudblood!”said Hazel, Ron, and Ginny together, very angrily. “It doesn’t matter,”Hermione whispered, “he’s not in his right mind, he doesn’t know what he’s —”  
“Don’t kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he’s saying,”said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike. Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry.  
"There is the girl. The traitor to the family, daughter of scum. Oh yes, oh yes, if mistress saw her mistress would not be please, oh no, oh no." Everyone looked around. "I told you, he isn't in his right mind." Said Hermione, sounding slightly sorry for the elf. Kreacher turned back to Harry. “Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that’s that boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it —”  
“Don’t we all, Kreacher?”said Fred. “What do you want anyway?”George asked. Kreacher’s huge eyes darted onto George. “Kreacher is cleaning,” he said evasively. “A likely story,”said a voice behind Harry. Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen. At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutlike nose on the floor. “Stand up straight,”said Sirius impatiently. “Now, what are you up to?”  
“Kreacher is cleaning,”Bthe elf repeated. “Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black —”  
“—and it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,”said Sirius. “Master always liked his little joke,”said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, “Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother’s heart —”  
“My mother didn’t have a heart, Kreacher,”Sirius snapped. “She kept herself alive out of pure spite.”Kreacher bowed again and said, “Whatever Master says,”then muttered furiously, “Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother’s boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was —”“I asked you what you were up to,”said Sirius coldly. “Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can’t throw it out.”  
“Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master’s house,”said the elf, then muttered very fast, “Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it’s been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master, and the scum, and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it —"  
“I thought it might be that,”said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. “She’ll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don’t doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher.” It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was redolent of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room. “—comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too —”  
“Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!”said Sirius irritably, and he slammed the door shut on the elf. “Sirius, he’s not right in the head,”said Hermione pleadingly, “I don’t think he realizes we can hear him.”“He’s been alone too long,”said Sirius, “taking mad orders from my mother’s portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little —”  
“If you just set him free,”said Hermione hopefully, “maybe —”  
“We can’t set him free, he knows too much about the Order,”said Sirius curtly. “And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it.”  
"I'll suggest it." Hazel muttered to George. Sirius walked across the room, where the tapestry Kreacher had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. Hazel and the others followed.  
The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though doxies had gnawed it in places; nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Hazel could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read: THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK “TOUJOURS PUR”  
“You’re not on here!”said Harry, after scanning the bottom of the tree. “I used to be there,”said Sirius, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. “My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home —Kreacher’s quite fond of muttering the story under his breath.”  
“You ran away from home?”  
“When I was about sixteen,”said Sirius. “I’d had enough.”“Where did you go?” asked Harry, staring at him. “Your dad’s place,”said Sirius. “Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad’s during the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold —he’s been wiped off here too, that’s probably why —anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s for Sunday lunch, though."  
“But . . . why did you . . . ?”  
“Leave?”Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . . that’s him.”Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name REGULUS BLACK. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth. “He was younger than me,”said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”“But he died,”said Harry. “Yeah,”said Sirius. “Stupid idiot . . . he joined the Death Eaters.”  
“You’re kidding!” exclaimed Harry at the same time Hazel said "No way!"  
“Come on, Harry, haven’t you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?”said Sirius testily. “Were —were your parents Death Eaters as well?”  
“No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things. . . . They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.”  
“Was he killed by an Auror?”Harry asked tentatively. “Oh no,”said Sirius. “No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”  
“Lunch,”said Mrs. Weasley’s voice. She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray loaded with sandwiches and cake on its tip. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food, but Hazel and Harry remained with Sirius, who had bent closer to the tapestry. “I haven’t looked at this for years. There’s Phineas Nigellus . . . my great-great-grandfather, see? Least popular headmaster Hogwarts ever had . . . and Araminta Meliflua . . . cousin of my mother’s . . . tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal . . . and dear Aunt Elladora . . . she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays . . . of course, anytime the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn’t on here. Maybe that’s why Kreacher won’t take orders from her —he’s supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him . . .”  
“You and Tonks are related?” Hazel and Harry asked, surprised. “Oh yeah, her mother, Andromeda, was my favorite cousin,”said Sirius, examining the tapestry carefully. “No, Andromeda’s not on here either, look —”He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa. “Andromeda’s sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so —”Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Harry, however, did not laugh; he was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda’s burn mark.  
"But you know, I had one more cousin, a sister to Andromeda... I don't know her name, or what she looks like, all I know is she is a squib and was kicked out of the family the second she showed no signs of magic." Said Sirius, he pointed to a half stitched circle that looked like it had been totally given up on. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy, and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco. “You’re related to the Malfoys!”  
“The pure-blood families are all interrelated,” said Sirius. “If you’re only going to let your sons and daughters marry purebloods your choice is very limited, there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur’s something like my second cousin once removed. But there’s no point looking for them on here —if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it’s the Weasleys.” But Harry was now looking at the name to the left of Andromeda’s burn: Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double line to Rodolphus Lestrange. “Lestrange . . .”Harry said aloud.  
Hazel looked at the picture of a witch who had dark curly hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones and a smug look on her face. Hazel couldn't help but touch her own dark corkscrew curls and suddenly feel the urge to cut them off.  
“They’re in Azkaban,”said Sirius shortly. Harry looked at him curiously. “Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch, Junior,”said Sirius in the same brusque voice. “Rodolphus’s brother, Rabastan, was with them too.”  
“You never said she was your —”  
“Does it matter if she’s my cousin?”snapped Sirius. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming in to Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having relatives like her?”  
“Sorry,” said Harry quickly, “I didn’t mean —I was just surprised, that’s all —”  
“It doesn’t matter, don’t apologize,”Sirius mumbled at once. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. “I don’t like being back here,”he said, staring across the drawing room. “I never thought I’d be stuck in this house again.”  
Hazel looked from Sirius and Harry then decided to leave, she could see he was going to start talking in a moment and she wanted to leave them to themselves. Hazel joined the other and picked up a salami sandwich and began to eat it slowly, looking over at Harry and Sirius every once in a while.  
Hazel had just finished up her sandwich when;  
“Hurry up, you two, or there won’t be any food left,”Mrs. Weasley called. Harry joined the others, he picked up a peanut butter sandwich and sat down by Hazel. "Listen, I'm sorry...again." Said Hazel, sheepishly. "It's ok. It's fine." Said Harry. "It just hasn't been a good month for me... you know?" She said. "Yeah I get it. Being kept in the dark is no fun." Replied Harry. "Yeah. I am really really sorry." Said Hazel. "It's good. I can't stay mad at you, you're my best friend." Said Harry. "Thanks." Said Hazel. "Hey... do you think I would be able to go to your hearing with you?" Asked Hazel. Harry thought for a second. "It depends on what Mr Weasley says. I don't know if your allowed, but I sure hope you are." Said Harry. "Good. I wouldn't want you going through it alone." She said. Harry smiled gratefully at her. After lunch they emptied the glass cabinets, many of the objects in there seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds, his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove. “It’s okay,” he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, “must be Wartcap powder in there.”He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Hazel saw George wrap his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into his already doxy-filled pocket, Hazel threw Harry a look, then they both began to laugh. They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry’s arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin; Sirius seized it and Hazel smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that none of them could open, a number of ancient seals and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius’s grandfather for “Services to the Ministry.”  
“It means he gave them a load of gold,”said Sirius contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack. Several times, Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Harry had never heard before. “It was my father’s,”said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. “Kreacher wasn’t quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father’s old trousers last week.” Hazel once again burst out laughing with Harry. She felt much happier and carefree now that they were talking. Mrs. Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate; finally the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk; Moody had not dropped by headquarters yet, so they could not be sure what was inside it. They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed. Snape might refer to their work as “cleaning,”but in Harry’s opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, “Master must do as Master wishes,”before turning away and muttering very loudly, “but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum . . .”At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room. The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius’s mother to start shrieking again, and for Hazel and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Mrs. Weasley recalled them to their tasks. Snape flitted in and out of the house several times more, though to Hazel’s relief they never came face-to-face; she also saw her Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, as Hazel ran through the front hall carrying multiple China plates stacked on the other. "Good morning, Professor." Said Hazel. "Oh, hello miss Hatter." Said Professor Mcgonagall. Hazel noticed how odd she looked with out her traditional emerald green robes, instead she wore a blue plaid dress, a yellow coat, and rain boots. "Beautiful day." Said Hazel. "Quite." Said Professor Mcgonagall. She didn't stay long, but Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help; Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, Hazel wondered if she had ever laughed so hard in her life as when Tonks slammed the lid down on the goblin and he yelped, muttering horrid swear words, and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passersby. Mundungus redeemed himself slightly in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes by rescuing Ron from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle him when he removed them from their wardrobe. 

Hazel, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were all having a good time, even though they had just been cleaning, but they were together. But it felt like the most wonderful summer ever. Until Wednesday, at dinner when Mrs Weasley said “I’ve ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight too. A good first impression can work wonders.”Ron, Hazel, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny all stopped talking and looked over at him. Harry , nodded then asked “How am I getting there?”  
“Arthur’s taking you to work with him,” said Mrs. Weasley gently. Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table. “You can wait in my office until it’s time for the hearing,” he said. Harry looked over at Sirius, but before he could ask the question Hazel knew he would ask, Mrs. Weasley had answered it. “Professor Dumbledore doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I —”  
“— think he’s quite right,” said Sirius through clenched teeth. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. “When did Dumbledore tell you that?” Harry said, staring at Sirius. “He came last night, when you were in bed,” said Mr. Weasley. Sirius stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork. Harry dropped his own eyes to his plate. "May I go? I'm not wanted yet. Mind you, yet. But I might be after this hearing." Said Hazel. Harry looked up at her, his eyes flickering with silent laughter. "No. I Don't think that's best." Said Mr Weasley flatly. "But-." Began Hazel.  
"I don't think so." Said Mr Weasley. Hazel stared down at her plate, but didn't eat another bit that night, and she noticed Harry didn't either.

That morning, the morning of Harry's hearing, Hazel put on a long white dress and tied her hair back into a lavender bow. "See you." Said Hazel to Hermione who at this point was sitting up in bean and reading a book. "Where are you going?" Asked Hermione. "I'm going to go downstairs to eat breakfast."  
"Ok. Bye." Said Hermione. Hazel walked out of her room, and to the kitchen  
She had expected it to be empty, except for Harry, but it was not. When she reached the door she heard the soft rumble of voices on the other side and when she pushed it open She saw Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting there. All were fully dressed except Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment she entered. “Good morning dear. I'll get you some Breakfast,” she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire. “M-m-morning, Hazel,”yawned Tonks. Her hair was blonde and curly this morning. “Sleep all well?" Asked Tonks. “Yeah, though the teenage girls in the painting my my room have been having quite late night chats,”said Hazel. Tonks laughed and pulled her out a chair. “What do you want, Hazel?”Mrs. Weasley called. “Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?”  
"I'll be fine with some porridge, thanks." Said Hazel, smiling. Hazel sat down net to Harry as Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him. "You look awfully nice." Said Harry, looking down at his clothes. "Maybe you should go as my representative." Said Harry. "Well that is if I was aloud to go." Said Hazel, then throwing a quick bitter look at Mr Weasley who was too busy talking to Lupin to notice. Harry smiled at her, patted her hand, and took a bite of his toast.  
Mrs. Weasley set down Hazel's porridge then sat down on Harry's other side and started fussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothing out creases across the shoulders.  
“. . . and I’ll have to tell Dumbledore I can’t do night duty tomorrow, I’m just t-t-too tired,”Tonks finished, yawning hugely again. “I’ll cover for you,”said Mr. Weasley. “I’m okay, I’ve got a report to finish anyway . . .”Mr. Weasley was not wearing wizard’s robes but a pair of pin-striped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He turned from Tonks to Harry. “How are you feeling?”Harry shrugged. “It’ll all be over soon,” Mr. Weasley said bracingly. “In a few hours’time you’ll be cleared.”Harry said nothing. “The hearing’s on my floor, in Amelia Bones’s office. She’s Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she’s the one who’ll be questioning you.”  
“Amelia Bones is okay, Harry,”said Tonks earnestly. “She’s fair, she’ll hear you out.”Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say. “Don’t lose your temper,” said Sirius abruptly. “Be polite and stick to the facts.” Harry nodded again. But Hazel snorted. “The law’s on your side,”said Lupin quietly. Hazel snorted once more, this time with a bit more scoff. “Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.”  
Suddenly Mrs. Weasley was attacking his hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head. “Doesn’t it ever lie flat?”she said desperately. Harry shook his head. Mr. Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry. “I think we’ll go now,”he said. “We’re a bit early, but I think you’ll be better off there than hanging around here.”  
“Okay,”said Harry automatically, dropping his toast and getting to his feet. Hazel stood up too. “You’ll be all right, Harry,”said Tonks, patting him on the arm. “Good luck,” said Lupin. “I’m sure it will be fine.”  
“And if it’s not,”said Sirius grimly, “I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you . . .” Harry smiled weakly. Mrs. Weasley hugged him. “We’ve all got our fingers crossed,”she said. “Right,” said Harry. “Well . . . see you later." Hazel walked with Harry out of the kitchen, Mr Weasley followed. "I am truly sorry you couldn't come Hazel." Said Mr Weasley, then he gave her an apologetic smile. Then he walked past them, down t he hall. "Good luck." Said Hazel, she smiled at him. "Thanks." He said. "Don't worry. Next time I see you we will be celebrating Hogwarts." Said Hazel, smiling. "I hope so." He said. "I believe in you." Said Hazel. "Thank you." Said Harry. "I'll see you soon." She said. "You too." Said Harry. Then she leaned into him and gave him a hug, he hugged her back. "Harry are you coming?" Asked Mr Weasley, as he peered around the corner. Hazel and Harry jumped apart, and Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "J-just a moment." He replied. Mr Weasley disappeared again. "Bye." Said Hazel. "Bye." Said Harry. They smiled, then Harry followed Mr Weasley and disappeared around the corner. Hazel turned to walk back to the kitchen when she ran right into Tonks. "Oh sorry! Sorry, I'm so clumsy." Said Tonks. "No worries. I am too." Said Hazel smiling. Tonks smiled back. "Are you going to be staying here today?" Asked Hazel. "Yeah. I figured while I'm still conscious I could be of some use" Said Tonks, yawning. "Well I'm sure we can find something to do. We could ask Mrs Weasley." Said Hazel. "S-sure." Said Tonks, yawning again. They walked back into the kitchen, Remus, Sirius, and Mrs Weasley turned to look at them. "Do you have anything you need Tonks and I to work on?" Hazel asked Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley thought for a second then said; "You know what, there is a swarm of Cornish Pixie's up stairs in the twins bedroom. See if the four of you can tackle them." Said Mrs Weasley. "Ok." Said Hazel, then she left the kitchen with Tonks on her tail. Hazel and Tonks walked down the hall, up a set of stairs, and through a door to their right. "This should be the twins room." Said Hazel, staring at a door with a blue light and a strangely acidic smell admitting from it. "What are they doing in there?" Asked Tonks. "Pranks." Said Hazel, a smile growing on her face. She knocked on the door and Fred's voice answered; "Who is it?"  
"Its me." Said Hazel. The door flung open to reveal a blue goop covered George and Fred with a blackened face except for where it seemed safety goggles had been previously. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" Asked Hazel. "Lets call it an experiment against out better judgment." Said Fred. "Lets call it postponed." Said Hazel, then she walked past George and sat down on one of the beds, and hopped right back up, and yelped. She pulled back the bedsheets and found a frozen doxy. Hazel began laughing, and then chucked the doxy at Fred who was working to get the burnt ashes off his face. Tonks broke into a laughing snort as Fred threw it at George who threw it back to Hazel who threw it in the trash. "Hey Tonks." Said Fred, smiling, noticing her for the first time. "Hi." She replied, suppressing her laughter. "So, not to be rude or anything, but what do you want?" Asked George. "You're mom said there is a bunch of Cornish Pixie's in your closet. She wanted the four of us to take care of them." Said Hazel. "Oh. We took care of those Pixie's a while ago, immobilized them and extracted their wings, crumpled 'em up and used them to make the puking pastlies." Said Fred. "That's disgusting." Said Tonks. "It might be, but it's a prophet." Said George. "I like the way you think." Said Tonks. Then she reached for a blue taffy, and unwrapped it. "What's this do?" Asked Tonks. "I dunno. It's one of our earlier pranks." Said George, getting the last bit of goo out of his hair. "Is it safe to eat?" Asked Tonks. "Well it won't kill you." Said Fred. "At least I don't think it will."  
Tonks stared at it for a second, then popped it in her mouth then chewed. Suddenly Tonks hair grew another foot, her eyelashes became darker, her lips grew and turned red, and her eyes became a bright blue. "What the heck?" Asked Tonks in an incredibly girly voice. "Oh! That was meant for Lee last year, I was gonna give it to him while he was asking Joanna Smith out." Laughed Fred. Hazel began to laugh at Tonks. "Do something." Said Tonks. "Aren't you a shape shifter?" Asked George. "Oh yeah." Said Tonks. Then she screwed up her face and went back to normal, well except for her hair, which turned a clear blue. "Nice touch with the hair." Said Hazel. "Thanks." Replied Tonks. The rest of the afternoon Tonks and Hazel tried different sweets. They laughed so hard hazel had the hiccups for then minutes straight, which caused her to hiccup even more.  
Around lunchtime Tonks left, and Hazel went to the kitchen to read in silence for a bit. After five minutes of silence Kreacher wondered in, mumbling to him self about some girl who was a disgrace to the family again, and how disgusting she was. Hazel could only assume he was talking of Andromeda. Then Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny all entered the kitchen. So Hazel got up, collected her books, and ventured into the front hall. As she did so the front door opened and Mr Weasley walked through. Hazel dropped her books on the floor and pushed past him, and ran right into Harry, and wrapping her arms around him. "Your back!" She cried. "Did they clear you? If they didn't I'll stay here with you! Or better yet you can come to my house. Actually no that won't do because-." Harry cut her off by squeezing her incredibly tight. "I'm going to Hogwarts, Haze." He said. "Oh! THATS BRILLIANT!" She cried, then she let go of him. She was completely over come with joy that he would be coming to Hogwarts with them. Before she knew what she was doing she kissed him on the cheek. "We have to go tell Hermione and Ron!" She exclaimed, and she began to run up the stairs. She stopped when she realized Harry wasn't following, she looked at him. He was staring up at her, his cheeks where burning red. "S-sorry. I am just very excited. I'm sure Hermione would do the same. Now let's go." She said, smiling. Harry smiled back and followed her, they ran up the halls and into the kitchen where Hermione was sitting with Ron, talking. "Hazel! Where have you-?" But she stopped talking when she saw Harry standing behind her. Hermione jumped up and hugged him. "I was cleared." He said. Hermione squealed with delight and kissed Harry's forehead as Hazel. had predicted. “I knew it!” yelled Ron, punching the air. “You always get away with stuff!”  
“They were bound to clear you,”said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. “There was no case against you, none at all . . .”  
“Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I’d get off,”said Harry, smiling. Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went “He got off, he got off, he got off —”  
“That’s enough, settle down!”shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. “Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —”  
“What?”said Sirius and Hazel sharply. “He got off, he got off, he got off —”  
“Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge’s office together. Dumbledore ought to know.”  
“Absolutely,”said Sirius. “We’ll tell him, don’t worry.”“Well, I’d better get going, there’s a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner —”  
“He got off, he got off, he got off —”  
“That’s enough —Fred —George —Ginny!”said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. “Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast . . .” Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Hazel sat down right next to Harry, she kept looking over and smiling at him. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise. “’Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you,”said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potatoes onto everyone’s plates. “Yeah, he swung it for me,”said Harry. “I wish he’d talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.”  
Hazel frowned at him. "I'm sure he was just occupied." Said Hazel. Harry looked at her, he opened his mouth to say something, but then clapped his hand over his scar. Hazel gasped and her eyes widened. “What’s up?”said Hermione, looking alarmed. “Scar,” Harry mumbled. "Are you ok?" Asked Hazel slowly, with a note of true concern in her voice. "Yes. It’s nothing. . . . It happens all the time now . . .”None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry’s narrow escape; Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron said happily, “I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening to celebrate with us, you know.”  
“I don’t think he’ll be able to, Ron,”said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. “He’s really very busy at the moment.”“HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF —”  
“SHUT UP!”roared Mrs. Weasley. Over the next few days Hazel could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that Harry would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry’s hand and beaming just like the rest of them; soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak. “Don’t you go feeling guilty!”said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a moldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. “You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he’s being selfish.”  
"I do to. I mean, I understand where he is coming from, but you are happy. So he should be happy, anyway, you're all that matters. I mean your happiness is all that matters. Or... should matter to Sirius..." Said Hazel, she felt her whole face growing hot.  
"Thanks, Haze." Said Harry, smiling.  
"Hazel's right... sorta." Said Hermione.  
“That’s a bit harsh, Hermione,”said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prize off a bit of mold that had attached itself firmly to his finger, “you wouldn’t want to be stuck inside this house without company.”  
“He’ll have company!”said Hermione. “It’s headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn’t it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him.”  
“I don’t think that’s true,”said Harry, wringing out his cloth. “He wouldn’t give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could.”  
“He just didn’t want to get his own hopes up even more,”said Hermione wisely. “And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you’d be expelled. Then you’d both be outcasts together.”  
Hazel found that a bit more harsh, but she just frowned.  
“Come off it!”said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged. “Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron’s mum’s right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you’re you or your father, Harry.”  
“So you think he’s touched in the head?”said Harry heatedly. “No, I just think he’s been very lonely for a long time,”said Hermione simply. At this point Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them. “Still not finished?”she said, poking her head into the cupboard. “I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!”said Ron bitterly. “D’you know how much mold we’ve got rid of since we arrived here?”  
“You were so keen to help the Order,”said Mrs. Weasley, “you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in.”  
“I feel like a house-elf,”grumbled Ron. “Well, now that you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you’ll be a bit more active in S.P.E.W.!” said Hermione hopefully, as Mrs. Weasley left them to it again. “You know, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time —we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W., it would raise awareness as well as funds —”  
"No! We've done enough cleaning." Said Hazel, quickly.  
"Oh why not? Just think people realizing just how much work house elves do, then them doing it themselves. It can be sponsored honeydukes or something." Said Hermione.  
“I’ll sponsor you to shut up about spew,”Ron muttered irritably, but only so Harry and Hazel could hear him. 

On the very last day of the holidays Harry was sweeping up Hedwig’s owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe, listening to Hazel read a thriller novel aloud from atop his bed, when Ron entered their bedroom carrying a three envelopes. “Booklists have arrived,”he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair, and another are Hazel, who put down her book. “About time, I thought they’d forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this . . .”  
"I'm I decided not to take as many classes anymore. I'll have more free time." Said Hazel, and ripped open her letter. Harry swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and threw the bag over Ron’s head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. Hazel began to read her letter: It contained two pieces of parchment, one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September, the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year. “Only two new ones,” Harry said, reading the list. “The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard.” Crack. Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn’t even fall off his chair. “We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book,” said Fred conversationally. “Because it means Dumbledore’s found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,”said George. “And about time too,”said Fred. “What d’you mean?”Harry asked, jumping down beside them. “Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back,”Fred told Harry, “and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year.”  
“Not surprising, is it, when you look at what’s happened to the last four?”said George.  
"I wouldn't take the job if Dumbledore offered me Gringotts." Said Hazel.  
“One sacked, one dead, one’s memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months,”said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”  
“What’s up with you, Ron?”asked Fred. Ron did not answer. Harry looked around. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts. “What’s the matter?”said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment. Fred’s mouth fell open too. “Prefect?”he said, staring incredulously at the letter. “Prefect?”George leapt forward, seized the envelope in Ron’s other hand, and turned it upside down. "Prefect!?" Asked Hazel, she jumped up and checked the letter as well. Hazel saw something scarlet and gold fall into George’s palm. “No way,”said George in a hushed voice. “There’s been a mistake,”said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron’s grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. “No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect . . .”The twins’ heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry. “We thought you were a cert!”said Fred in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way. “We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!”said George indignantly. “Winning the Triwizard and everything!”said Fred. “I suppose all the mad stuff must’ve counted against him,”said George to Fred. “Yeah,”said Fred slowly. “Yeah, you’ve caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you’s got their priorities right.” He strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look. “Prefect . . . ickle Ronnie the prefect . . .” Hazel snickered.  
“Oh, Mum’s going to be revolting,”groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him. Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, and then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy’s chest on his very first day at Hogwarts. The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand. “Hazel! Did you —did you get —?”She spotted the badge in Harry’s hand and let out a shriek. “No way! THAT'S GREAT!”she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. “Me too, Harry, me too!”  
“No,”said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron’s hand. “It’s Ron, not me.”  
“It —what?”  
“Ron’s prefect, not me,”Harry said. “Ron?”said Hermione, her jaw dropping. “But . . . are you sure? I mean —” She turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face. “It’s my name on the letter,” he said. “I . . .”said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. “I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That’s really —”  
“Unexpected,”said George, nodding. “No,”said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, “no, it’s not . . . Ron’s done loads of . . . he’s really . . .”The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs. Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes. “Ginny said the booklists had come at last,”she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. “If you give them to me I’ll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you’re packing. Ron, I’ll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can’t believe how fast you’re growing . . . what color would you like?”  
“Get him red and gold to match his badge,”said George, smirking. “Match his what?”said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,”said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.”Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re...?”  
Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!”  
“What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?”said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son. Hazel smiled at the twins and draped her arms over their shoulders. "Don't feel bad. It's for the best that Ickle Ronnie get prefect." Said Hazel. Fred and George snickered.  
“Wait until your father hears! Ron, I’m so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it’s the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I’m just thrilled, oh Ronnie —”  
Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs. Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron’s neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge. “Mum . . . don’t . . . Mum, get a grip . . .” he muttered, trying to push her away. She let go of him and said breathlessly, “Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you’ve already got one, of course.”  
“W-what do you mean?”said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears. “You’ve got to have a reward for this!”said Mrs. Weasley fondly. “How about a nice new set of dress robes?”  
“We’ve already bought him some,”said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity. “Or a new cauldron, Charlie’s old one’s rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers —”  
“Mum,”said Ron hopefully, “can I have a new broom?”Mrs. Weasley’s face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive. “Not a really good one!”Ron hastened to add. “Just —just a new one for a change . . .”Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then smiled. “Of course you can. . . . Well, I’d better get going if I’ve got a broom to buy too. I’ll see you all later. . . . Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don’t forget to pack your trunks. . . . A prefect . . . Oh, I’m all of a dither!” She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room. Fred and George exchanged looks. “You don’t mind if we don’t kiss you, do you, Ron?” said Fred in a falsely anxious voice. “We could curtsy, if you like,”said George. "Maybe my first born child." Said Hazel. “Oh, shut up,”said Ron, scowling at them. “Or what?”said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. “Going to put us in detention?”  
“I’d love to see him try,”sniggered George. “He could if you don’t watch out!”said Hermione angrily, at which Fred, George, and Hazel burst out laughing and Ron muttered, “Drop it, Hermione.”  
“We’re going to have to watch our step, George,”said Fred, pretending to tremble, “with these two on our case . . .”  
“Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over,”said George, shaking his head. And with another loud crack, the twins Disapparated. “Those two!”said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs, and then she shifted her gaze to Hazel cracking up right next to her. “Don’t pay any attention to them, Ron, they’re only jealous!”  
“I don’t think they are,”said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. “The twins always said only prats become prefects. . . . Still,”he added on a happier note, “they’ve never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose. . . . She’ll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there’s the new Cleansweep out, that’d be great. . . . Yeah, I think I’ll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows . . .”He dashed from the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. “Harry?”said Hermione tentatively. “Well done,”said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. “Brilliant. Prefect. Great.”  
"Really Hermione. Good job." Said Hazel, she had calmed herself down.  
“Thanks,”said Hermione. “Erm —Harry —could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They’ll be really pleased —I mean, prefect is something they can understand —”  
“Yeah, no problem,”said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. “Take her!” He leaned over his trunk, laid the robes on the bottom of it, and pretended to be rummaging for something while Hermione crossed to the wardrobe and called Hedwig down.  
Hermione threw Hazel a concerned look, then left the room. Hazel knew Hermione wanted her to talk to Harry. "Um," began Hazel. "Are you alright Harry?"  
He took a deep breath, straightened up, and looked at her. "I'm fine." He said, looking slightly downcast. "Really what's wrong?" She asked kindly. "Nothing!" He yelled, suddenly becoming angry. Hazel took a step back, suddenly she felt as though she was surrounded by dementors. She felt cold and alone. Harry's expression softened, and he took a step towards her. "I'm sorry." He said. "Whats wrong? Really? I want to help." She said. "I don't know... I just guess...it seems weird. Dumbledore didn't pick me to be prefect." Said Harry. "You're jealous?" She asked, softly. "No. I mean, I hadn't even thought about prefect til now. But I feel a bit disappointed I suppose."  
"Why?" Asked Hazel. "I don't know! Can't I be disappointed?" Asked Harry, loudly and clearly angry.  
"Of course! I just wanna know why the bloody hell your disappointed! Can't i ask a question?" She asked, talking louder than him.  
"Sorry. Sorry. I just mean....well I'm not really sure what I mean." Said Harry.  
"So why are you upset over something you are confused about. Just be happy for Ron." Said Hazel.  
"Right. Says the girl teasing him about his accomplishment." Said Harry, sarcastically. "I tease him because I love him. And really, I couldn't be more proud of him." Said Hazel, fondly. "I'll tell you what, tell him how proud you are of him, and I'll be just as proud as you." He said. Hazel smiled, "Deal."  
Harry shook her hand and hitched a grin onto his face as Ron bounded back through the door. “Just caught her!”he said happily. “She says she’ll get the Cleansweep if she can.”  
“Cool,”Harry said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had stopped sounding hearty. Hazel smiled at Ron, then she rushed forward and gave him a quick hug. "I am so proud of you!" She said. Ron blushed furiously, then smiled. "T-thanks." He said.  
“Listen —Ron —well done, mate.” The smile faded off Ron’s face. “I never thought it would be me!”he said, shaking his head, “I thought it would be you!”  
“Nah, I’ve caused too much trouble,”Harry said, echoing Fred. “Yeah,”said Ron, “yeah, I suppose. . . . Well, we’d better get our trunks packed, hadn’t we?"  
"I packed two days ago, so I'll just sit in here and read my novel." Said Hazel.  
"Ok. And you know... you can always read it aloud if you'd like." Said Harry. "You like it do you?" Asked Hazel. "Its better than last weeks book, Darla Dooley." Said Harry. "Yeah... that was horrible. I can't believe Hermione actually read that series. I mean come on! The killer is always obvious." Said Hazel. "Even I figured it out on the second chapter." Replied Harry, throwing a semi clean shirt into his trunk.  
Hazel picked up her book, The Mayflower Mystery and began to read aloud.  
It took all afternoon for the boys to finish packing their room.  
Hazel noticed that Ron kept moving his prefect’s badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and laying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk. Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o’clock, laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing. “Never mind unwrapping it now, people are arriving for dinner, I want you all downstairs,”she said, but the moment she was out of sight Ron ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every inch of his new broom, an ecstatic expression on his face. Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE —NEW PREFECTS. She looked in a better mood than Hazel had seen her all holiday. “I thought we’d have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,”she told Harry, Hazel, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny as they entered the room. “Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I’ve sent them both owls and they’re thrilled,”she added, beaming. Fred rolled his eyes. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry and Hazel had gotten themselves a butterbeer. “Oh, Alastor, I am glad you’re here,”said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his traveling cloak. “We’ve been wanting to ask you for ages —could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what’s inside it? We haven’t wanted to open it just in case it’s something really nasty.”  
“No problem, Molly . . .”Moody’s electric-blue eye swiveled upward and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen. “Drawing room . . .”he growled, as the pupil contracted. “Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it. . . . Yeah, it’s a boggart. . . . Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?”  
“No, no, I’ll do it myself later,”beamed Mrs. Weasley. “You have your drink. We’re having a little bit of a celebration, actually . . .”She gestured at the scarlet banner. “Fourth prefect in the family!”she said fondly, ruffling Ron’s hair. “Prefect, eh?”growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swiveling around to gaze into the side of his head. “Well, congratulations,”said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, “authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you . . .”Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them too; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody’s traveling cloak, Hazel eyed Mundungus suspiciously then while Mr Weasley proposed a toast Hazel walked over to Mundungus and said out of the corner of her mouth "Do anything to mess this up for my best friend, and the stolen goods under your coat won't be the only things to make you look messed up." Mundungus nodded slowly and Hazel joined Harry again.  
“To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!” Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them and then applauded. “I was never a prefect myself,”said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length today; she looked like Ginny’s older sister. “My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.”“Like what?”said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato. “Like the ability to behave myself,”said Tonks. Hazel and Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it. “What about you, Sirius?”Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh. “No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”  
“I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,” said Lupin. “I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.”  
"You hear that Harry? Your dad wasn't a prefect either." Said Hazel, smiling rather large. Harry smiled back.  
“. . . naught to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two Ninety’s only naught to sixty and that’s with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?”Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about her view of elf rights. “I mean, it’s the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn’t it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they’re superior to other creatures . . .”Mrs. Weasley and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill’s hair. “. . . getting really out of hand, and you’re so good-looking, it would look much better shorter, wouldn’t it, Harry?”  
“Oh —I dunno —” said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion. Hazel giggled as he awkwardly slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus. Hazel followed him, joining them. Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harry and Hazel, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer. “It’s okay,”he told Mundungus, “we can trust Harry, he’s our financial backer, and Hazel... she's family."  
Hazel smiled incredibly wide when Fred called her family.  
“Look what Dung’s gotten us,”said George, holding out his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shriveled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary. “Venomous Tentacula seeds,”said George. “We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes but they’re a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance so we’ve been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them.”  
“Ten Galleons the lot, then, Dung?”said Fred. “Wiv all the trouble I went to to get ’em?”said Mundungus, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. “I’m sorry, lads, but I’m not taking a Knut under twenty.”  
“Dung likes his little joke,”Fred said to Hazel when she looked like she was going to reply to Dung. “Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of knarl quills,”said George. “Be careful,” Harry warned them quietly. “What?”said Fred. “Mum’s busy cooing over Prefect Ron, we’re okay.”  
“But Moody could have his eye on you,”Harry pointed out. Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder. “Good point, that,”he grunted. “All right, lads, ten it is, if you’ll take ’em quick.”“Cheers, Harry!”said Fred delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins’ outstretched hands and scuttled off toward the food. “We’d better get these upstairs . . .”  
Hazel watched them go.  
"Nice job getting one over on Dung." Said Hazel.  
"Hmm? Oh yeah." Said Harry, sounding preoccupied. "I don't trust Mundungus one but. Guy just ticks me off." Added Hazel. "Yeah." Said Harry, he was now looking over at Kingsley and Lupin talking out of the very corner of his eye. Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter. “. . . why Dumbledore didn’t make Potter a prefect?”said Kingsley. “He’ll have had his reasons,”replied Lupin. “But it would’ve shown confidence in him. It’s what I’d’ve done,”persisted Kingsley, “’specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days . . .” Hazel did not look around; she did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know she had heard. Harry stood up, Hazel followed him as he followed Mundungus back toward the table.  
“. . . the handle’s made of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration control —”Ron was saying to Tonks. Mrs. Weasley yawned widely. “Well, I think I’ll sort out that boggart before I turn in. . . . Arthur, I don’t want this lot up too late, all right? ’Night, Harry, dear.” She left the kitchen. Harry set down his plate and had a questioning look on his face, deep in thought. “You all right, Potter?”grunted Moody. “Yeah, fine,” lied Harry. Moody took a swig from his hip flask, his electric blue eye staring sideways at Harry. “Come here, I’ve got something that might interest you,” he said. Harry and Hazel exchanged a look them walked over to Moody. From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph. “Original Order of the Phoenix,” growled Moody. “Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn’t had the manners to return my best one. . . . Thought people might like to see it.” Harry took the photograph, Hazel set her chin on his shoulder, looking at it. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him. “There’s me,” said Moody unnecessarily, pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakable, though his hair was slightly less gray and his nose was intact. “And there’s Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side . . . That’s Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That’s Frank and Alice Longbottom —”Hazel’s stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as she looked at Alice Longbottom; she knew her round, friendly face very well, even though she had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville.  
"Harry..." mumbled Hazel, sadly. Harry nodded. “Poor devils,”growled Moody. “Better dead than what happened to them . . . and that’s Emmeline Vance, you’ve met her, and that there’s Lupin, obviously . . . Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him . . . shift aside there,” he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front. “That’s Edgar Bones . . . brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard . . . Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young . . . Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body . . . Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever . . . Elphias Doge, you’ve met him, I’d forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat . . . Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes . . . budge along, budge along . . .” The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves, and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture. “That’s Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke . . . That’s Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally . . . Sirius, when he still had short hair . . . and . . . there you go, thought that would interest you!” Hazel’s heart turned over. Harry's mother and father were beaming up at them. Hazel gave a small wave to them, and she noticed them wave back. Hazel began to positively beam. Then she noticed, they where sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man Hazel recognized at once as Wormtail: He was the one who had betrayed their whereabouts to Voldemort and so helped bring about their deaths. “Eh?”said Moody. Harry looked up into Moody’s heavily scarred and pitted face. Evidently Moody was under the impression he had just given Harry a bit of a treat. “Yeah,” said Harry, attempting to grin again. “Er . . . listen, I’ve just remembered, I haven’t packed my . . .”  
Harry began to sputter when Sirius had just said, “What’s that you’ve got there, Mad-Eye?”and Moody had turned toward him. Harry motioned for Hazel to follow him, they crossed the kitchen, slipped through the door and up the stairs before anyone could call them back. "You all right?" Asked Hazel. "Fine. Yeah." He said. "You don't seem fine. Do you want to talk?" She asked. "Not now." He said. Then they tiptoed up the stairs in the hall past the stuffed elf heads, glad to be in the quiet again, but as they approached the first landing they heard noises. Someone was sobbing in the drawing room. “Hello?” Harry said. "Hello? Who's there?" Asked Hazel. There was no answer but the sobbing continued. They climbed the remaining stairs two at a time, walked across the landing, and opened the drawing-room door. Someone was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron. All the air seemed to vanish from Hazel’s lungs; Hazel dropped to the floor; her brain turned icy cold —Ron dead, no, it couldn’t be —But wait a moment, it couldn’t be —Ron was downstairs —“Mrs. Weasley?” Harry croaked. “R-r-riddikulus!”Mrs. Weasley sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron’s body. Crack. Ron’s body turned into Bill’s, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever. “R-riddikulus!”she sobbed again. Crack. Mr. Weasley’s body replaced Bill’s, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face. “No!” Mrs. Weasley moaned. “No . . . riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!”Crack. Hazel began to cry. Dead twins. Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Then Hazel swore the boggart noticed her because suddenly; Dead Harry... Hazel began to positively weep, not able to help herself.  
“Mrs. Weasley, just get out of here!”shouted Harry, staring down at his own dead body on the floor. "Hazel! Get up! Go!" Said Harry, trying to haul her to her feet. “Let someone else —”  
“What’s going on?”Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them. Lupin looked from Mrs. Weasley to Hazel to the dead Harry on the floor and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand he said, very firmly and clearly, “Riddikulus!”Harry’s body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke. Hazel still, on the ground was bawling her eyes out. Harry got onto the floor next to her, he wrapped her into a hug. "Its ok. It's not real." He said. "That doesn't... make it... any less horrifying." She replied. “Oh —oh —oh!”gulped Mrs. Weasley, and she broke into a storm of crying, her face in her hands. “Molly,”said Lupin bleakly, walking over to her, “Molly, don’t . . .” Next second she was sobbing her heart out on Lupin’s shoulder.  
Hazel pulled Harry close to her and held on, crying into his shoulder. “Molly, it was just a boggart,”he said soothingly, patting her on the head. “Just a stupid boggart . . .”  
“I see them d-d-dead all the time!” Mrs. Weasley moaned into his shoulder. “All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it . . .”  
Hazel began to cry harder, if possible. "Please Harry. Don't ever die." She groaned. "I'll try not too." He said softly.  
“D-d-don’t tell Arthur,”Mrs. Weasley was gulping now, mopping her eyes frantically with her cuffs. “I d-d-don’t want him to know. . . . Being silly...”  
Lupin handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose. “Harry, I’m so sorry, what must you think of me?”she said shakily. “Not even able to get rid of a boggart . . .”  
“Don’t be stupid,”said Harry, trying to smile. “I’m just s-s-so worried,”she said, tears spilling out of her eyes again. “Half the f-f-family’s in the Order, it’ll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this. . . . and P-P-Percy’s not talking to us. . . . What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what’s going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who’s g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?”  
Hazel had stopped crying but she was still shaking, and holding onto Harry, and he was patting her head.  
“Molly, that’s enough,” said Lupin firmly. “This isn’t like last time. The Order is better prepared, we’ve got a head start, we know what Voldemort’s up to —”Mrs. Weasley gave a little squeak of fright at the sound of the name. “Oh, Molly, come on, it’s about time you got used to hearing it —look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time, you weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one . . .”  
“Don’t worry about Percy,”said Sirius abruptly. “He’ll come round. It’s a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them. And I’m not sure I’ll be accepting their apology,”he added bitterly. “And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” said Lupin, smiling slightly, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”Mrs. Weasley smiled tremulously. “Being silly,”she muttered again, mopping her eyes.  
"C'mon." Said Harry, slowly helping Hazel to her feet. "Where?" She asked, weakly. "You're going to bed." He said. "No. No. The party... Hermione and Ron..." Said Hazel. "You won't be much good to them dead tired." Said Harry. She sighed and put her arm around him, they walked to Hazel's room, exchanged good night's, and went to bed.

 

The next morning Hazel woke up, got dressed into a black spaghetti strap shirt and a medium-length poofy blue skirt, and black sneakers. She carried her trunk down stairs and put it in the front hall. Mrs Weasley was ballistic, she was on top of everyone.  
On Hazel's way back up the stairs Fred and George had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the bother of carrying them, with the result that they had hurtled straight into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs into the hall; Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices. “—COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS —”“—FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS —”Hazel ran out of the room, covering her ears. Then she ran into Hermione who Hermione went flying into the boys room looking flustered, Hazel followed quickly, just as Harry was putting on his trainers; Hedwig was swaying on her shoulder, and she was carrying a squirming Crookshanks in her arms. “Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back”—the owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage —“are you ready yet?”  
“Nearly —Ginny all right?” Harry asked, shoving on his glasses. “Mrs. Weasley’s patched her up,”said Hermione. “But now Mad-Eye’s complaining that we can’t leave unless Sturgis Podmore’s here, otherwise the guard will be one short.”“Guard?”said Harry. “We have to go to King’s Cross with a guard?”  
“You have to go to King’s Cross with a guard,”Hermione corrected him. “Why?”said Harry irritably. “I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low, or are you telling me he’s going to jump out from behind a dustbin to try and do me in?”  
"That'd be a way to go." Said Hazel, and she began to laugh, but stopped when she noticed Hermione's serious look on her face.  
“I don’t know, it’s just what Mad-Eye says,”said Hermione distractedly, looking at her watch. “But if we don’t leave soon we’re definitely going to miss the train . . .”  
“WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!”Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room. Harry seized Hedwig, stuffed her unceremoniously into her cage, and set off downstairs after Hermione, Hazel helping him drag his trunk. Mrs. Black’s portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again anyway. “Harry, you’re to come with me, Hazel, and Tonks,”shouted Mrs. Weasley over the repeated screeches of “MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!”  
“You two new too Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor’s going to deal with the luggage. . . . Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!” A bearlike black dog had appeared at Harry’s side as Harry clambered over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley. Hazel rolled her eyes at Sirius, she loved him, honestly, he was great, but he really was risking Harry her. “Oh honestly . . .”said Mrs. Weasley despairingly, “well, on your own head be it!”She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry, Hazel, and the dog followed her. The door slammed behind them and Mrs. Black’s screeches were cut off instantly. “Where’s Tonks?”Harry said, looking around as they went down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment they reached the pavement. “She’s waiting for us just up here,”said Mrs. Weasley stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside Harry. An old woman greeted them on the corner. She had tightly curled gray hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a porkpie. “Morning Hazel. Wotcher, Harry,”she said, winking. “Better hurry up, hadn’t we, Molly?”she added, checking her watch. “I know, I know,”moaned Mrs. Weasley, lengthening her stride, “but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis. . . . If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again . . . but Fudge wouldn’t let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days. . . . How Muggles can stand traveling without magic . . .” But the great black dog gave a joyful bark and gamboled around them, snapping at pigeons, and chasing its own tail. Hazel couldn’t help laughing. Sirius had been trapped inside for a very long time. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. It took them twenty minutes to reach King’s Cross by foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than Sirius scaring a couple of cats for Hazel's and Harry’s entertainment. Once inside the station they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through onto platform nine and three quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families. "Your going back." Hazel whispered to Harry. "I know." He said, he was smiling. “I hope the others make it in time,”said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, staring behind her at the wrought-iron arch spanning the platform, through which new arrivals would come. “Nice dog, Harry!”called a tall boy with dreadlocks. “Thanks, Lee,”said Harry, grinning, as Sirius wagged his tail frantically. Hazel waved to Lee who waved back. “Oh good,”said Mrs. Weasley, sounding relieved, “here’s Alastor with the luggage, look . .”A porter’s cap pulled low over his mismatched eyes, Moody came limping through the archway pushing a cart full of their trunks. “All okay,” he muttered to Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. “Don’t think we were followed . . .”Seconds later, Mr. Weasley emerged onto the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody’s luggage cart when Fred, George, and Ginny turned up with Lupin. “No trouble?” growled Moody. “Nothing,”said Lupin. “I’ll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore,”said Moody. “That’s the second time he’s not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus.”  
“Well, look after yourselves,”said Lupin, shaking hands all round. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You too, Harry. Be careful.”  
“Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled,”said Moody, shaking Harry’s hand too. “And don’t forget, all of you —careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don’t put it in a letter at all.”  
“It’s been great meeting all of you,”said Tonks, hugging Hermione and Ginny. Then she stopped and stared at Hazel. "I'll miss you." She said, then they exchanged a hug. "You too. I'll write sometime." Said Hazel.  
“We’ll see you soon, I expect.” A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train. “Quick, quick,”said Mrs. Weasley distractedly, hugging them at random and catching Harry twice. “Write . . . Be good. . . . If you’ve forgotten anything we’ll send it on. . . . Onto the train, now, hurry . . .”  
For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry’s shoulders, but Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, “For heaven’s sake act more like a dog, Sirius!”  
Hazel grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him onto the train.  
“See you!” Harry called out of the open window as the train began to move, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waved beside him. The figures of Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shrank rapidly but the black dog was bounding alongside the window, wagging its tail; blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, and then they turned the corner, and Sirius was gone. “He shouldn’t have come with us,”said Hermione in a worried voice. “Oh lighten up,”said Ron, “he hasn’t seen daylight for months, poor bloke.”“Well,”said Fred, clapping his hands together, “can’t stand around chatting all day, we’ve got business to discuss with Lee. See you later"  
and he and George disappeared down the corridor to the right. The train was gathering still more speed, so that the houses outside the window flashed past and they swayed where they stood. "Shall we go and find a compartment, then?”Harry asked Ron and Hermione. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. “Er,”said Ron. “We’re —well —Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage,”Hermione said awkwardly. Ron wasn’t looking at Harry; he seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails on his left hand. “Oh,”said Harry. “Right. Fine.”  
“I don’t think we’ll have to stay there all journey,”said Hermione quickly. “Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time.”  
“Fine,”said Harry again. “Well, I-I might see you later, then.”  
“Yeah, definitely,”said Ron, casting a shifty, anxious look at Harry. “It’s a pain having to go down there, I’d rather —but we have to —I mean, I’m not enjoying it, I’m not Percy,”he finished defiantly. “I know you’re not,”said Harry and he grinned. But as Hermione and Ron dragged their trunks, Crookshanks, and a caged Pigwidgeon off toward the engine end of the train, Hazel waved goodbye to them.  
“Come on. Let's get a spot.” said Hazel.  
"If we get a move on we can get a compartment."  
“Right,”said Harry, picking up Hedwig’s cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other, Hazel picked up her trunk too. They struggled off down the corridor, peering through the glass-paneled doors into the compartments they passed, which were already full. Hazel could not help noticing that a lot of people stared back at Harry with great interest and that several of them nudged their neighbors and pointed him out. After Hazel had met this behavior in five consecutive carriages she remembered that the Daily Prophet had been telling its readers all summer what a lying show-off Harry was. Hazel suddenly felt the urge to jinx each and every person that look at them like a museum exhibit. In the very last carriage they met Neville Longbottom, Hazel’s fellow fifth-year Gryffindor, his round face shining with the effort of pulling his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor. “Hi, Harry, Hi Hazel,”he panted. “Hi, Ginny. . . . Everywhere’s full. . . . I can’t find a seat . . .”  
“What are you talking about?”said Ginny, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him. “There’s room in this one, there’s only Loony Lovegood in here —”Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone. “Don’t be silly,”said Ginny, laughing, “she’s all right.”  
"Her name is Luna. Not Loony." Said Hazel.  
Hazel slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside it. Harry and Neville followed. “Hi, Luna,”said Hazel. “Is it okay if we take these seats?”The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look, she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded. “Thanks,”said Hazel, smiling at her. Harry and Neville stowed the four trunks and Hedwig’s cage in the luggage rack and sat down. Luna watched them over her upside-down magazine, which was called The Quibbler. She did not seem to need to blink as much as normal humans. She stared and stared at Harry, who had taken the seat opposite her and now wished he had not. “Had a good summer, Luna?” Hazel asked. “Yes,”said Luna dreamily, without taking her eyes off Harry. “Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You’re Harry Potter,” she added. “I know I am,”said Harry. Hazel smiled widely at Harry, who kinda grimaced back. Neville chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes upon him instead. “And I don’t know who you are.”  
“I’m nobody,”said Neville hurriedly. “No you’re not,”said Hazel sharply, putting her arm around Neville. “Neville Longbottom —Luna Lovegood. Luna’s in Ginny's year, but in Ravenclaw.”  
“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,”said Luna in a singsong voice. "And you're Ginny Weasley." Said Luna. Ginny nodded. "We've spoken a few times." Said Luna. Then She raised her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Harry and Neville looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Ginny suppressed a giggle. "Isn't she great?" Whispered Hazel. Neville looked a bit concerned, and Harry just nodded. The train rattled onward, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled sort of day; one moment the carriage was full of sunlight and the next they were passing beneath ominously gray clouds. “Guess what I got for my birthday?”said Neville. “Another Remembrall?”said Harry. “No,”said Neville, “I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago. . . . No, look at this . . .”He dug the hand that was not keeping a firm grip on Trevor into his schoolbag and after a little bit of rummaging pulled out what appeared to be a small gray cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines. “Mimbulus mimbletonia,”he said proudly. Harry stared at the thing. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ. “It’s really, really rare,”said Neville, beaming. “I don’t know if there’s one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can’t wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I’m going to see if I can breed from it.” Hazel knew that Neville’s favorite subject was Herbology, but for the life of her she could not see what she would want with this stunted little plant. “Does it —er —do anything?”he asked. “Loads of stuff!”said Neville proudly. “It’s got an amazing defensive mechanism —hold Trevor for me . . .”He dumped the toad into Hazel’s lap and took a quill from his schoolbag. Luna Lovegood’s popping eyes appeared over the top of her upside-down magazine again, watching what Neville was doing. Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot, and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill. Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, dark-green jets of it; they hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna Lovegood’s magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat, but Hazel was struggling to keep Trevor on her lap, Harry tried to help Hazel, and in doing so they both got a face full of slime. It smelled like rancid manure. Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes. “S-sorry,”he gasped. “I haven’t tried that before. . . . Didn’t realize it would be quite so . . . Don’t worry, though, Stinksap’s not poisonous,”he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor. Hazel couldn't help but laugh, then she gave Trevor back to Neville. At that precise moment the door of their compartment slid open. “Oh . . . hello, Harry,” said a nervous voice. “Um . . . bad time?” Harry wiped the lenses of his glasses with his hand. A girl with long, shiny black hair was standing in the doorway smiling at him: Cho Chang, the Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Hazel suddenly felt the urge to slam the door closed.  
“Oh . . . hi,”said Harry blankly. “Um . . .”said Cho. “Well . . . just thought I’d say hello . . . ’bye then.”She closed the door again, rather pink in the face, and departed. Harry slumped back in his seat and groaned. Hazel rolled her eyes at Harry. "Who cares?" She asked, grumpily. “Never mind,”said Ginny, she looked a bit upset. “Look, we can get rid of all this easily.”She pulled out her wand. “Scourgify!”The Stinksap vanished. “Sorry,”said Neville again, in a small voice.  
Hazel looked over at Harry who was still slumped in his seat looking like someone had just taken his award for coolness.  
Ron and Hermione did not turn up for nearly an hour, by which time the food trolley had already gone by. Harry, Ginny, Hazel, and Neville had finished their Pumpkin Pasties and were busy swapping Chocolate Frog cards when the compartment door slid open and they walked in, accompanied by Crookshanks and a shrilly hooting Pigwidgeon in his cage. “I’m starving,”said Ron, stowing Pigwidgeon next to Hedwig, grabbing a Chocolate Frog from Harry and throwing himself into the seat next to him. He ripped open the wrapper, bit off the Frog’s head, and leaned back with his eyes closed as though he had had a very exhausting morning. “Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House,”said Hermione, looking thoroughly disgruntled as she took her seat. “Boy and girl from each.”  
“And guess who’s a Slytherin prefect?”said Ron, still with his eyes closed. “Malfoy,”replied Harry at once.  
“’Course,”said Ron bitterly, stuffing the rest of the Frog into his mouth and taking another. “And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson,”said Hermione viciously. “How she got to be a prefect when she’s thicker than a concussed troll . . .”  
“Who’s Hufflepuff?”Harry asked. “Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott,”said Ron thickly. “And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw,” said Hermione.  
Hazel still hadn't acknowledged them entering the carriage, she just looked out the window, not really staring at anything.  
“You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil,”said a vague voice. Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler. He swallowed his mouthful of Frog. “Yeah, I know I did,”he said, looking mildly surprised. “She didn’t enjoy it very much,” Luna informed him. “She doesn’t think you treated her very well, because you wouldn’t dance with her. I don’t think I’d have minded,”she added thoughtfully, “I don’t like dancing very much.”She retreated behind The Quibbler again. Ron stared at the cover with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, then looked around at Hazel for some kind of explanation, but he only heard Ginny's muffled giggling. Ron shook his head, bemused, then checked his watch. “We’re supposed to patrol the corridors every so often,”he told Harry and Neville, “and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can’t wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something . . .”  
“You’re not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!”said Hermione sharply. “Yeah, right, because Malfoy won’t abuse it at all,”said Ron sarcastically. “So you’re going to descend to his level?”  
“No, I’m just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine.”  
“For heaven’s sake, Ron —”  
“I’ll make Goyle do lines, it’ll kill him, he hates writing,” said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle’s low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. “I . . . must . . . not . . . look . . . like . . . a . . . baboon’s . . . backside . . .”Everyone, even Hazel, laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. She laughed so hard that her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor. “That was funny!” Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. Utterly nonplussed, he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on Ron’s face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna Lovegood, who was rocking backward and forward, clutching her sides. “Are you taking the mickey?”said Ron, frowning at her. “Baboon’s . . . backside!”she choked, holding her ribs. Everyone else was watching Luna laughing, but Harry, glancing at the magazine on the floor, then suddenly he dove for it. Upside down it had been hard to tell what the picture on the front was, but Hazel now realized it was a fairly bad cartoon of Cornelius Fudge; Hazel only recognized him because of the lime-green bowler hat. One of Fudge’s hands was clenched around a bag of gold; the other hand was throttling a goblin. The cartoon was captioned: HOW FAR WILL FUDGE GO TO GAIN GRINGOTTS? Beneath this were listed the titles of other articles inside the magazine. CORRUPTION IN THE QUIDDITCH LEAGUE: How the Tornados Are Taking Control SECRETS OF THE ANCIENT RUNES REVEALED SIRIUS BLACK: Villain or Victim? “Can I have a look at this?”Harry asked Luna eagerly. She nodded, still gazing at Ron, breathless with laughter.  
Hazel watched as Harry read the magazine, she knew he would end up confused. Everyone usually did.  
She noticed a few odd faces he made while reading it.  
Then he finished and looked up.  
“Anything good in there?”asked Ron as Harry closed the magazine. “Of course not,”said Hermione scathingly, before Harry could answer, “The Quibbler’s rubbish, everyone knows that.”  
Hazel made a shocked face at Hermione. “Excuse me,”said Luna; her voice had suddenly lost its dreamy quality. “My father’s the editor.”  
"Its a perfectly good magazine!" added Hazel.  
“I —oh,”said Hermione, looking embarrassed. “Well . . . it’s got some interesting . . . I mean, it’s quite . . .”  
“I’ll have it back, thank you,”said Luna coldly, and leaning forward she snatched it out of Harry’s hands. Rifling through it to page fifty-seven, she turned it resolutely upside down again and disappeared behind it, just as the compartment door opened for the third time. Hazel looked around; she had expected this, but that did not make the sight of Draco Malfoy smirking at her from between his cronies Crabbe and Goyle any more enjoyable.  
Hazel gripped her wand strongly and glared at Draco.  
“What?” Harry said aggressively, before Malfoy could open his mouth. “Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention,”drawled Malfoy, whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his father’s. "I'd like to see you try!" Said Hazel, through gritted teeth. “Oh, I will. You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.”  
“Yeah,”said Harry, “but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.” Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville laughed, but Hazel just stared at Draco. Malfoy’s lip curled. “Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?”he asked. “Shut up, Malfoy,” said Hermione sharply. “I seem to have touched a nerve,”said Malfoy, smirking. “Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I’ll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line.”  
“Get out!”said Hazel, standing up. Hazel walked up to him inched away and hissed "Now."  
Sniggering, Malfoy gave Harry a last malicious look and departed, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering in his wake. Hazel slammed the compartment door behind them and turned to look at Harry, she knew at once that he, like her, had registered what Malfoy had said and been just as unnerved by it. “Chuck us another Frog,”said Ron, who had clearly noticed nothing. Harry could not talk freely in front of Neville and Luna. He exchanged a nervous look with Hermione and then stared out of the window.  
The weather remained undecided as they traveled farther and farther north. Rain spattered the windows in a halfhearted way, then the sun put in a feeble appearance before clouds drifted over it once more. When darkness fell and lamps came on inside the carriages, Luna rolled up The Quibbler, put it carefully away in her bag, and took to staring at everyone in the compartment instead. Harry was sitting with his forehead pressed against the train window. “We’d better change,”said Hermione at last. She and Ron pinned their prefect badges carefully to their chests. Hazel saw Ron checking how it looked in the black window. At last the train began to slow down and they heard the usual racket up and down it as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready for departure. Ron and Hermione were supposed to supervise all this; they disappeared from the carriage again, leaving Hazel and the others to look after Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon. “I’ll carry that owl, if you like,”said Luna to Harry, reaching out for Pigwidgeon as Neville stowed Trevor carefully in an inside pocket. “Oh —er —thanks,”said Harry, handing her the cage and hoisting Hedwig’s more securely into his arms. Hazel carefully carried Crookshanks in her arms. They shuffled out of the compartment feeling the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. Slowly they moved toward the doors. Harry could smell the pine trees that lined the path down to the lake. He stepped down onto the platform and looked around, listening for the familiar call of “Firs’ years over here . . . firs’ years . . .”But it did not come. Instead a quite different voice, a brisk female one, was calling, “First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!”A lantern came swinging toward Hazel and by its light she saw the prominent chin and severe haircut of Professor Grubbly-Plank, the witch who had taken over Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures lessons for a while the previous year. “Where’s Hagrid?” Harry said out loud. “I don’t know,”said Ginny, “but we’d better get out of the way, we’re blocking the door.”  
“Oh yeah . . .” Harry and Hazel lost Ginny as they moved off along the platform and out through the station. She looked around for Ron or Hermione, wanting to know what they thought about the reappearance of Professor Grubbly-Plank, but neither of them was anywhere near her, so she allowed herself to be shunted forward onto the dark rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade station. Here stood the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first year up to the castle. “Where’s Pig?”said Ron’s voice, right behind Haz. “That Luna girl was carrying him,”said Harry. “Where d’you reckon —”  
“—Hagrid is? I dunno,”said Ron, sounding worried. “He’d better be okay . . .”A short distance away, Draco Malfoy, followed by a small gang of cronies including Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, was pushing some timid-looking second years out of the way so that they could get a coach to themselves. Seconds later Hermione emerged panting from the crowd. “Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first year back there, I swear I’m going to report him, he’s only had his badge three minutes and he’s using it to bully people worse than ever. . . . Where’s Crookshanks?”  
"Here he is." Said Hazel, she stepped forward and handed Hermione a calm Crookshanks.  
“Thanks,”said Hermione. “Come on, let’s get a carriage together before they all fill up . . .”  
“I haven’t got Pig yet!”Ron said, but Hermione was already heading off toward the nearest unoccupied coach. Hazel remained behind with Ron and Harry. “What are those things, d’you reckon?” he asked Ron, nodding at the horseless carriages. “What things?” asked Hazel and Ron.  
“Those horse —”Luna appeared holding Pigwidgeon’s cage in her arms; the tiny owl was twittering excitedly as usual. “Here you are,” she said. “He’s a sweet little owl, isn’t he?”  
“Er . . . yeah . . . He’s all right,”said Ron gruffly. “Well, come on then, let’s get in. . . . what were you saying, Harry?”  
"Yeah, what horse things?" Asked Hazel.  
“I was saying, what are those horse things?”Harry said, as he, Hazel, Ron, and Luna made for the carriage in which Hermione and Ginny were already sitting. “What horse things?”  
“The horse things pulling the carriages!”said Harry. Ron, however, gave Harry a perplexed look. “What are you talking about?” asked Ron.  
“I’m talking about —look!”Harry grabbed Ron’s arm and wheeled him about, facing nothing. Ron stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at Harry. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”  
"Look! Hazel, can't you see it?" Asked Harry, putting his ha da on her shoulders and facing her towards the carriage.  
"I-I'm sorry... I dont see it. I don't see it." Said Hazel, suddenly feeling a bit sad she couldn't see what Harry was talking about.  
“At the —there, between the shafts! Harnessed to the coach! It’s right there in front —” But Ron continued to look bemused. Hazel was just frowning at the thing she couldn't see...  
“Can’t . . . can’t you see them?” asked Harry.  
“See what?”  
"No... I'm sorry." Said Hazel again.  
“Can’t you see what’s pulling the carriages?” Ron looked seriously alarmed now. “Are you feeling all right, Harry?”  
“I . . . yeah . . .”  
“Shall we get in, then?”said Ron uncertainly, looking at Harry as though worried about him. “Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah, go on . . .”  
“It’s all right,”said a dreamy voice from beside Harry as Ron vanished into the coach’s dark interior. “You’re not going mad or anything. I can see them too.”  
“Can you?”said Harry desperately, turning to Luna.  
“I’ve been able to see them ever since my first day here. They’ve always pulled the carriages. Don’t worry. You’re just as sane as I am.” Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron. "I believe you." Said Hazel, smiling to Harry. "Thanks Haze. I knew you would." Said Harry. Then they got into the carragee. 

 

“Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?”asked Ginny. “What’s she doing back here? Hagrid can’t have left, can he?”  
“I’ll be quite glad if he has,”said Luna. “He isn’t a very good teacher, is he?”  
“Yes, he is!” said Harry, Ron, and Ginny angrily.  
"Of course he is." Said Hazel, calmly.  
Harry glared at Hermione; she cleared her throat and quickly said, “Erm . . . yes . . . he’s very good.”  
“Well, we think he’s a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw,”said Luna, unfazed. “You’ve got a rubbish sense of humor then,” Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion. Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron’s rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television program. Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Hazel leaned forward to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid’s cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet-black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them. The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first, then Hazel followed. They turned again to look for lit windows down by the forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrid’s cabin.  
“Are you coming or what?”said Ron beside them. “Oh . . . yeah,” said Harry quickly, and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. "Are you all right?" Asked Hazel. "Yeah... I just don't know why you can't see them..." Said Harry, looking truly puzzled.  
The entrance hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another’s new haircuts and robes. Again Hazel noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as Harry passed; Hazel gritted her teeth and glared at people as she passed. Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor’s, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth years and left to sit with them; Harry, Hazel, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made Hazel quite sure they had stopped talking about Harry a split second before. “He’s not there.” Said Harry. Hazel had noticed too, their favorite teacher wasn't in sight.  
Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid’s size made him instantly obvious in any lineup. “He can’t have left,”said Ron, sounding slightly anxious. “Of course he hasn’t,”said Harry firmly. “You don’t think he’s . . . hurt, or anything, do you?”said Hermione uneasily. “No,”said Harry at once. “But where is he, then?”There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati, and Lavender could not hear, “Maybe he’s not back yet. You know —from his mission —the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.”  
“Yeah . . . yeah, that’ll be it,”said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hazel still had a shred of doubt, and Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid’s absence. “Who’s that?” she said sharply, pointing toward the middle of the staff table. Hazel’s eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore’s head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Hazel thought, like somebody’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes. “It’s that Umbridge woman!” Harry hissed.  
“Who?”said Hermione. “She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!”  
"Oh great..." moaned Hazel.  
“Nice cardigan,”said Ron, smirking. “She works for Fudge?”Hermione repeated, frowning. “What on earth’s she doing here, then?”  
“Dunno . . .”Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed. “No,” she muttered, “no, surely not . . .” Hazel did not understand what she was talking about but did not ask; her attention had just been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid’s. That meant that the first years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the entrance hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard’s hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim. The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back. The first years’ faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Hazel recalled, fleetingly, how terrified she had felt when she had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which House she belonged. The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat’s brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song: In times of old when I was new And Hogwarts barely started The founders of our noble school Thought never to be parted: United by a common goal, They had the selfsame yearning, To make the world’s best magic school And pass along their learning. “Together we will build and teach!”The four good friends decided And never did they dream that they Might someday be divided, For were there such friends anywhere As Slytherin and Gryffindor? Unless it was the second pair Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw? So how could it have gone so wrong? How could such friendships fail? Why, I was there and so can tell The whole sad, sorry tale. Said Slytherin, “We’ll teach just those Whose ancestry is purest.”Said Ravenclaw, “We’ll teach those whose Intelligence is surest.”Said Gryffindor, “We’ll teach all those With brave deeds to their name.”Said Hufflepuff, “I’ll teach the lot, And treat them just the same.”These differences caused little strife When first they came to light, For each of the four founders had A House in which they might Take only those they wanted, so, For instance, Slytherin Took only pure-blood wizards Of great cunning, just like him, And only those of sharpest mind Were taught by Ravenclaw While the bravest and the boldest Went to daring Gryffindor. Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest, And taught them all she knew, Thus the Houses and their founders Retained friendships firm and true. So Hogwarts worked in harmony For several happy years, But then discord crept among us Feeding on our faults and fears. The Houses that, like pillars four, Had once held up our school, Now turned upon each other and, Divided, sought to rule. And for a while it seemed the school Must meet an early end, What with dueling and with fighting And the clash of friend on friend And at last there came a morning When old Slytherin departed And though the fighting then died out He left us quite downhearted. And never since the founders four Were whittled down to three Have the Houses been united As they once were meant to be. And now the Sorting Hat is here And you all know the score: I sort you into Houses Because that is what I’m for, But this year I’ll go further, Listen closely to my song: Though condemned I am to split you Still I worry that it’s wrong, Though I must fulfill my duty And must quarter every year Still I wonder whether Sorting May not bring the end I fear. Oh, know the perils, read the signs, The warning history shows, For our Hogwarts is in danger From external, deadly foes And we must unite inside her Or we’ll crumble from within. I have told you, I have warned you. . . . Let the Sorting now begin. The hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Hazel’s memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors and Hazel, clapping along with everyone.  
"Don't you usually wonder off right about now?" Harry asked Hazel. "Hmm... I suppose I do... well I'll stay for this feast." Said Hazel, grinning, then her eyes shifted over to the Ravenclaw table, she saw Cho Chang looking over at Harry. But then Cho noticed Hazel looking at her, and she jumped, facing forward again.  
Hazel had liked Cho last year, she was kind to her, but they both liked Harry, and the other knew it...  
So they've both been quite tense lately.

“Branched out a bit this year, hasn’t it?” said Ron, his eyebrows raised. "What?" Asked Hazel, confused as to what Ron meant. "The hats song. It's branched out." Said Ron.  
“Too right it has,”said Harry.  
"Oh, yeah." Said Hazel.  
The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts Houses and its own role in sorting them; Hazel could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before. “I wonder if it’s ever given warnings before?”said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious. “Yes, indeed,”said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville toward her (Neville winced, it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). “The hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels —” But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first years’ names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four House tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out, “Abercrombie, Euan.”The terrified-looking boy Hazel had noticed earlier stumbled forward and put the hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” Hazel clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor House as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table, sat down right next to Hazel, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again. "Welcome." She said kindly to him. "T-thanks..." Said Euan. "I hope you'll like it here. Gryffindor is a great house." Said Hazel. "Thanks." He said again. Then he noticed he was reappearing himself he said "I'm sure I will like it here." He said. Hazel smiled at him. Slowly the long line of first years thinned; in the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat’s decisions, Hazel could hear Ron’s stomach rumbling loudly, she tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a pumpkin pastie she pulled out of her robe. He ate it rather quickly. Finally, “Zeller, Rose”was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. “To our newcomers,”said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, “welcome! To our old hands —welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!” There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate —for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice. “Excellent,”said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick. “What were you saying before the Sorting?”Hermione asked the ghost. “About the hat giving warnings?”  
“Oh yes,”said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. “Yes, I have heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: Stand together, be strong from within.”  
“Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?”said Ron. His mouth was so full Hazel thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all. “I beg your pardon?”said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, “How can it know if the school’s in danger if it’s a hat?”  
“I have no idea,”said Nearly Headless Nick. “Of course, it lives in Dumbledore’s office, so I daresay it picks things up there.”  
“And it wants all the Houses to be friends?”said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. “Fat chance.” mumbled Hazel, taking a bite of a chicken leg.“Well, now, you shouldn’t take that attitude,”said Nick reprovingly. “Peaceful cooperation, that’s the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate Houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.”  
“Only because you’re terrified of him,”said Ron. Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted. “Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins —”  
“What blood?”asked Ron. “Surely you haven’t still got —?”  
“It’s a figure of speech!”said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. “I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!”  
“Nick, he wasn’t really laughing at you!”said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron. Unfortunately, Ron’s mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was “node iddum eentup sechew,” which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis. “Well done, Ron,”snapped Hermione.  
"Absolutely brilliant." Added Hazel.  
“What?”said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. “I’m not allowed to ask a simple question?”  
“Oh forget it,”said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.  
Hazel was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; she felt it was a better use of his time to eat her way steadily through her vegetable stew, then a large plateful mashed potatoes. When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster.  
“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,”said Dumbledore. “First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students —and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.”  
(Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.) “Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door. “We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause during which Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching. Dumbledore continued, “Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —”  
He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, “Hem, hem,”and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout’s eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall’s mouth was as thin as Hazel had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.  
Hazel exchanged a look of disgust with Harry.“Thank you, Headmaster,”Professor Umbridge simpered, “for those kind words of welcome.”Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and again, Hazel felt a powerful rush of dislike that she could not explain to herself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough (“Hem, hem”) and continued: “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!”She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. “And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!”Hazel glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.  
"Are you making a happy face?" Hazel whispered to Harry. "Nope. You?" He asked. "Nope. Oh this is going to be an interesting year." Said Hazel.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins, Hazel let out a laugh, this woman had to be delusional. “I’ll be her friend as long as I don’t have to borrow that cardigan,”Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles. Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again (“Hem, hem”), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them. “The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”  
Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. Professor McGonagall’s dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Hazel distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little “Hem, hem”and went on with her speech. “Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . .”  
Hazel began to feel bored, she decided to stop listening, so she pulled a small book out of her robes and began to look at it, not really reading.  
The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. Meanwhile at the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Hazel was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect’s badge gleaming on his chest. Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Hazel had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have plowed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.  
“. . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Hazel noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping, and professor Mcgonagall had a more sour look on her face than usual. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again. “Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,”he said, bowing to her. “Now —as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . .”“Yes, it certainly was illuminating,”said Hermione in a low voice. “You’re not telling me you enjoyed it?”Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face upon Hermione. “That was about the dullest speech I’ve ever heard, and I grew up with Percy.”  
“I said illuminating, not enjoyable,”said Hermione. “It explained a lot.”  
“Did it?”said Harry in surprise. “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”  
"Yeah. Rubbish." Agreed Hazel.  
“There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle and rubbish,”said Hermione grimly. “Was there?”said Ron blankly. “How about ‘progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged’? How about ‘pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited’?”  
"Oh... really? I want really listening." Admitted Hazel, she began to look concerned.  
“Well, wait, what does that mean?”said Ron impatiently. “I’ll tell you what it means,”said Hermione ominously. “It means the Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts.”  
Hazel began to feel stupid that she hadn't listened better...  
There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered. “Ron, we’re supposed to show the first years where to go!”“Oh yeah,”said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. “Hey —hey you lot! Midgets!”  
“Ron!”  
“Well, they are, they’re titchy . . .”  
“I know, but you can’t call them midgets. . . . First years!” Hermione called commandingly along the table. “This way, please!”  
A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small.  
"Adorable, aren't they. Though, I don't think I was ever that short." Added Hazel. "No, you where a bloody giant." Said Harry, then he smiled down at Euan.  
Euan looked terrified, then another first year whispered something into his ear and Euan looked even more terrified. Suddenly Harry's grin slid off his face, and he looked grim.  
“See you later,”he said to Ron and Hermione and he made his way out of the Great Hall.  
Hazel groaned, as she watched him go. "I'll see you." Said Hazel, she waved to Hermione and Ron, then pushed past the other students, and tried to catch up to Harry.  
Hazel saw him take a right down a passage he had been through before, so she took a right, and ran down the corridor. Soon the paths intersected and she just about ran into Harry.  
"Hey." She said. "Hi." He said.  
"Are you all right?" She asked. "Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" He asked.  
"You rushed off kinda quickly... you know it doesn't matter what they say, your bloody awesome. And if they don't believe you, well then thats their fault." She said.  
"Thanks Haze. But that all think I'm crazy." Harry said. "Then you know what? They're crazy." Hazel said. "Yeah no kidding."  
Harry looked at the floor as they made their way back to their common room. He looked lost in thought, and confused.  
They had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and had come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before they realized that they did not know the new password. “Er . . .” Harry said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him. “No password, no entrance,”she said loftily. “Harry, Hazel, I know it!”someone panted from behind him, and he turned to see Neville jogging toward him. “Guess what it is? I’m actually going to be able to remember it for once —” He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. “Mimbulus mimbletonia!”  
“Correct,”said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open toward them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry, Hazel, and Neville now climbed. The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cozy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the notice board. Harry and Hazel waved good night to them. "Mind if I come up with you? I have something I think Dean might like, and Hermione isn't back yet." Said Hazel. "Sure. Come on." Said Harry.  
They headed straight for the door to the boys’ them. Neville followed him. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry and Hazel pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw Harry.  
“Hi,” he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it. "Hello." Said Hazel, cheerfully. “Hey, Harry, Hi Hazel,”said Dean. “Good holiday?”“Not bad,”muttered Harry.  
"Coulda been better." Admitted Hazel.  
“You?”  
“Yeah, it was okay,”chuckled Dean. “Better than Seamus’s anyway, he was just telling me.”  
“Why, what happened, Seamus?”Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet. Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, “Me mam didn’t want me to come back.”  
“What?”said Harry. "Why?" Asked Hazel.“She didn’t want me to come back to Hogwarts.”Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pajamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry. “But —why?”said Harry, astonished. Hazel knew that Seamus’s mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursley-ish. “Well,”he said in a measured voice, “I suppose . . . because of you.”  
Hazel who had just sat down at the edge of Harry's bed hopped back up. "What?" She asked, heated.  
“What d’you mean?”said Harry quickly. His  
“Well,”said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry’s eyes, “she . . . er . . . well, it’s not just you, it’s Dumbledore too . . ."  
“She believes the Daily Prophet?”said Harry. “She thinks I’m a liar and Dumbledore’s an old fool?”  
"She thinks Harry's made it all up!?" Cried Hazel.  
Seamus looked up at them. “Yeah, something like that.” Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down onto his bedside table. "Thats ridiculous." Mumbled Hazel.  
“Look . . . what did happen that night when . . . you know, when . . . with Cedric Diggory and all?” Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk, trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard. “What are you asking me for?”Harry retorted. “Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don’t you?"  
"That’ll tell you all you need to know.” added Hazel.  
“Don’t you have a go at my mother,”snapped Seamus.  
“I’ll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar,”said Harry.  
"And I'll have a bloody row with anyone who says anything against my friends!" Said Hazel, fiercely.  
“Don’t talk to me like that!”  
“I’ll talk to you how I want,”said Hazel and Harry, “And If you’ve got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved, stop your mummy worrying —”  
“Leave my mother out of this, Potter!” Seamus stood up, and raised his fists.  
Hazel pulled her wand out of her pocket. "You so much as make a move Seamus-!"  
“What’s going on?”Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes traveled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Hazel, who was in a locked stance and wand pointed at Seamus, then to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised. "They're having a go at my mother!”Seamus yelled. “What?”said Ron. “They wouldn’t do that —we met your mother, we liked her . . .”  
“That’s before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!”said Harry at the top of his voice.  
"And Dumbledore!" Added Hazel.  
“Oh,”said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. “Oh . . . right.”  
“You know what?”said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. “He’s right, I don’t want to share a dormitory with him anymore, he’s a madman.”  
“That’s out of order, Seamus,”said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red, always a danger sign. “Out of order, am I?”shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was turning paler. “You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?”  
"YES!" Yelled Hazel.  
“Yeah, I do!”said Ron angrily. “Then you’re mad too,”said Seamus in disgust. “Yeah? Well unfortunately for you, pal, I’m also a prefect!”said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. “So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!”Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed, and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville. “Anyone else’s parents got a problem with Harry?”he said aggressively. “My parents are Muggles, mate,”said Dean, shrugging. “They don’t know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I’m not stupid enough to tell them.”  
“You don’t know my mother, she’ll weasel anything out of anyone!” Seamus snapped at him. "Shut up!" Yelled Hazel.  
“Anyway, your parents don’t get the Daily Prophet, they don’t know our headmaster’s been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he’s losing his marbles —”  
“My gran says that’s rubbish,”piped up Neville. “She says it’s the Daily Prophet that’s going downhill, not Dumbledore. She’s canceled our subscription. We believe Harry,”he said simply. “My gran’s always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he’s back, he’s back.” Hazel felt a rush of gratitude toward Neville, and she cooled off a bit. "Oh, Dean." Said Hazel. "Yeah?" He asked. "I've got something for you." She said. "Really?" He asked. "Yeah, I saw it over the summer and thought you'd like it." She said, then she pulled a miniature 28 pack of colored pastels out of her pocket. "Hey, thanks." He said, then he studied them.  
"Sure thing. Well I'm gonna go to bed." Said Hazel, to Harry and Ron. "Good night." Said Ron. "Night, Haze." Said Harry. Hazel glared at Seamus one more time, long and hard, them she smiled to her friends and left. When she entered her room Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were already there. "Hello." Said Hazel. "Hi." Said Parvati. "Hi Lavender." Said Hazel. When Lavender didn't answer Hazel knew why instantly. "He's telling the truth." Said Hazel. "No he's not!" Lavender shot back. "Cedric Diggory died due to a tragic accident!" Hazel glared at Lavender. "No he didn't! He was murdered by Voldemort!" Hissed Hazel. Lavender winced and Parvati squeaked at the name. But Lavender recovered quickly and kept pressing on. "Harry Potter is a liar! Cedric-!"  
"DON'T YOU EVER CALL HARRY A LIAR!" Yelled Hazel.  
"DON'T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" Lavender replied.  
"I will talk to you any bloody was I want, you daft dimbo, and keep your big fat mouth shut!" Hissed Hazel. Lavender didn't say anything she just gripped her wand.  
Hazel threw off her robes and put on her pajamas, and went to bed. 

 

The next morning Hazel dressed in her robes, then walked down to the common room, meeting Harry and Ron on her way. Hermione was waiting in the common room, she looked up as the three others approached.  
“What’s the matter?" Hermione asked Harry, catching up with them halfway across the common room as they all headed toward breakfast. “You look absolutely —oh for heaven’s sake.”She was staring at the common room notice board, where a large new sign had been put up. GALLONS OF GALLEONS! Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold? Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs (WE REGRET THAT ALL WORK IS UNDERTAKEN AT APPLICANT’S OWN RISK) “They are the limit,”said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. “We’ll have to talk to them, Ron.”Ron looked positively alarmed. “Why?”  
“Because we’re prefects!”said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. “It’s up to us to stop this kind of thing!”Ron said nothing  
"I could talk to them... if you want." Said Hermione. "No. We need to do it. It's our responsibility."  
"Ok." Said Hazel.  
“Anyway, what’s up, Harry?”Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. “You look really angry about something.”  
“Seamus reckons Harry’s lying about You-Know-Who,”said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond. Hermione, whom Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed. “Yes, Lavender thinks so too,”Hazel said gloomily. “Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I’m a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?”Harry said loudly. “No,”said Hazel calmly, “I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down Ron’s, Hermione's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven’t noticed, we’re on your side.” Said Hazel fiercely. There was a short pause. “Sorry,”said Harry in a low voice. “That’s quite all right,”said Hazel with dignity. Then she shook her head. “Don’t you remember what Dumbledore said at the end-of-term feast last year?” asked Hermione.  
Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly, and Hermione sighed. “About You-Know-Who. He said, ‘His gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust —’”  
“How do you remember stuff like that?”asked Ron, looking at her in admiration. “I listen, Ron,”said Hermione with a touch of asperity. “So do I, but I still couldn’t tell you exactly what —”  
“The point,” Hermione pressed on loudly, “is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who’s only been back two months, and we’ve started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat’s warning was the same —stand together, be united —”  
“And Hazel said it last night,”retorted Ron, “if that means we’re supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance.”  
“Well, I think it’s a pity we’re not trying for a bit of inter-House unity,”said Hermione crossly. They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the entrance hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers. “Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that,”said Harry sarcastically. Hazel sniggered. They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Hazel’s mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud gray. “Dumbledore didn’t even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman’s staying,” he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table. “Maybe . . .”said Hermione thoughtfully. “What?”said both Harry and Ron together. “Well . . . maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here.”  
“What d’you mean, draw attention to it?”said Ron, half laughing. “How could we not notice?”Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long, braided hair had marched up to Harry and Hazel. “Hi, Angelina.” they said.  
“Hi,”she said briskly, “good summer?”And without waiting for an answer, “Listen, I’ve been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.”  
“Nice one,”said Harry, grinning at her. "Briliant." Said Hazel.  
“Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver’s left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o’clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person’ll fit in.”  
“Okay,”said Hazel andnHarry, and she smiled at him and departed. “I’d forgotten Wood had left,”said Hermione vaguely, sitting down beside Ron and pulling a plate of toast toward her. “I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?”  
"Probably." Hazel said, absently.  
“I s’pose,” said Harry, taking the bench opposite. “He was a good Keeper . . .”  
“Still, it won’t hurt to have some new blood, will it?”said Ron. With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. A large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak landed in front of Hermione. “What are you still getting that for?”said Harry irritably. “I’m not bothering . . . load of rubbish.”  
“It’s best to know what the enemy are saying,”said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry, Hazel, and Ron had finished eating. “Nothing,”she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. “Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything.”Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out schedules. “Look at today!”groaned Ron. “History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George’d hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted . . .”  
“Do mine ears deceive me?”said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing onto the bench beside Harry and Hazel. “Hogwarts prefects surely don’t wish to skive off lessons?”  
“Look what we’ve got today,”said Ron grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred’s nose. “That’s the worst Monday I’ve ever seen.”  
“Fair point, little bro,”said Fred, scanning the column. “You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.”  
“Why’s it cheap?”said Ron suspiciously. “Because you’ll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven’t got an antidote yet,”said George, helping himself to a kipper. Hazel began to laugh as Ron made a sickened face. “Cheers,”said Ron moodily, pocketing his schedule, “but I think I’ll take the lessons.”  
“And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes,”said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, “you can’t advertise for testers on the Gryffindor notice board.”  
“Says who?”said George, looking astonished. “Says me,” said Hermione. “And Ron.”  
“Leave me out of it,”said Ron hastily. Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered. “You’ll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione,”said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. “You’re starting your fifth year, you’ll be begging us for a Snackbox before long.”  
“And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?”asked Hermione. “Fifth year’s O.W.L. year,”said George. “So?”  
“So you’ve got your exams coming up, haven’t you? They’ll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they’ll be rubbed raw,”said Fred with satisfaction. “Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to O.W.L.s,”said George happily. “Tears and tantrums . . . Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint . . .”  
“Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d’you remember?”said Fred reminiscently. “That’s ’cause you put Bulbadox Powder in his pajamas,”said George. “Oh yeah,”said Fred, grinning. “I’d forgotten. . . . Hard to keep track sometimes, isn’t it?”  
“Anyway, it’s a nightmare of a year, the fifth,”said George. “If you care about exam results anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow.”  
“Yeah . . . you got, what was it, three O.W.L.s each?”said Ron. “Yep,”said Fred unconcernedly. “But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement.”  
“We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year,”said George brightly, “now that we’ve got —” He broke off at a warning look from Harry. “—now that we’ve got our O.W.L.s,”George said hastily. “I mean, do we really need N.E.W.T.s? But we didn’t think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world’s biggest prat.”  
“We’re not going to waste our last year here, though,” said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. “We’re going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, and then produce the products to fit the demand.”  
“But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?”asked Hermione skeptically. “You’re going to need all the ingredients and materials —and premises too, I suppose . . .”  
Hazel noticed Harry's face turn red and he dropped his fork, then he drove under the table. Hazel leaned under the table too. "Watcha doing?" She asked. "Fork." He said, looking odd. "You all right?" She said. "I'm fine." He snapped. "I'm just worried about you." Said Hazel, looking slightly scandalized, she then sat up from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.  
Harry emerged too.  
“What did that mean?”said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron. “‘Ask us no questions . . . ’Does that mean they’ve already got some gold to start a joke shop?”  
“You know, I’ve been wondering about that,”said Ron, his brow furrowed. “They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer, and I couldn’t understand where they got the Galleons . . .”  
“D’you reckon it’s true this year’s going to be really tough? Because of the exams?”  
“Oh yeah,”said Ron. “Bound to be, isn’t it? O.W.L.s are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what N.E.W.T.s you want to do next year.”  
“D’you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?” Harry asked the other three, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterward and set off toward their History of Magic classroom.  
“Not really,”said Ron slowly. “Except . . . well . . .” He looked slightly sheepish.  
“What?”Harry urged him. “Well, it’d be cool to be an Auror,”said Ron in an offhand voice. “Yeah, it would,”said Harry fervently. “But they’re, like, the elite,”said Ron. “You’ve got to be really good."  
"I was actually thinking an Auror too. Like Tonks. I mean, I'm pretty fierce info do say so myself." Said Hazel, smiling. "No kidding. I wouldnt cross you." Said Harry.  
"What about you, Hermione?” asked Hazel.“I don’t know,”said Hermione. “I think I’d really like to do something worthwhile.”  
“An Auror’s worthwhile!”said Harry. “Yes, it is, but it’s not the only worthwhile thing,”said Hermione thoughtfully. “I mean, if I could take S.P.E.W. further . . .”  
"That would be nice. Dean and I could always make some posters." Said Hazel.  
Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other.  
"Really?" Asked Hermione. "Really."  
"Thanks! You are the best!"

 

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by Wizard-kind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Hermione’s and Hazel's notes before exams; but only Hermione seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns’s voice. Today they suffered three-quarters of an hour’s droning on the subject of giant wars. Hazel heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher’s hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then her brain disengaged, and she spent the remaining thirty-five minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Ron and Hazel, while Hermione shot them filthy looks out of the corner of her eye. “How would it be,”she asked them coldly as they left the classroom for break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), “if I refused to lend you my notes this year?”  
"Then I'd end up teaching them." Said Hazel.  
“We’d fail our O.W.L.s,”said Ron. “If you want that on your conscience, Hermione . . .”  
“Well, you’d deserve it,”she snapped. “You don’t even try to listen to him, do you?”  
“We do try,”said Ron. “We just haven’t got your brains or your memory or your concentration —you’re just cleverer than we are —is it nice to rub it in?”  
“Oh, don’t give me that rubbish,”said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she led the way out into the damp courtyard. A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner toward them. “Hello, Harry!” It was Cho Chang and what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling.  
Hazel avoided Cho's eye as Harry said “Hi,”  
“You got that stuff off, then?”  
“Yeah,”said , grinning stupidly. “So did you . . . er . . . have a good summer?”  
“Oh, it was all right, you know . . .”  
“Is that a Tornados badge?”Ron demanded suddenly, pointing at the front of Cho’s robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. “You don’t support them, do you?”  
“Yeah, I do,”said Cho. “Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?”said Ron. “I’ve supported them since I was six,” said Cho coolly. “Anyway . . . see you, Harry.”She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron. “You are so tactless!”  
“What? I only asked her if —”  
“Couldn’t you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?”  
Hazel scoffed angrily, Hermione suddenly looked guilty.  
“So? She could’ve done, I wasn’t stopping —”“What on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team for?” Hermione asked slowly.  
“Attacking? I wasn’t attacking her, I was only —”“Who cares if she supports the Tornados?”  
“Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season —”“But what does it matter?”  
“It means they’re not real fans, they’re just jumping on the bandwagon —”  
“That’s the bell,”said Harry listlessly. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape’s dungeon.  
Hazel filed into the classroom behind Ron, Harry, and Hermione and followed them to their usual table at the back, ignoring the huffy, irritable noises now issuing from the two of them, Hazel avoided even looking at Harry.“Settle down,”said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape’s mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class’s silence. “Before we begin today’s lesson,”said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, “I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in your O.W.L., or suffer my . . . displeasure.”His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped, Hazel glared fiercely at Snape. “After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,”Snape went on. “I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye.”His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled.  
Hazel oddly felt absolutely no need to glare back at Snape, or even react.  
“But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,”said Snape softly, “so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students. “Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.” next to Hazel, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. “The ingredients and method”—Snape flicked his wand —“are on the blackboard”—(they appeared there) —“you will find everything you need”—he flicked his wand again —“in the store cupboard”—(the door of the said cupboard sprang open) —“you have an hour and a half. . . . Start.”Just as Harry, Ron, Hazel, and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. “A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion,”called Snape, with ten minutes left to go. Hazel smiled down at her potion, mixing carefully, her potion, like Hermione's, was a shimmering mist of silver vapor, But Harry's cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; Ron’s was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. As Snape swept by Hazel's potion he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant that he could find nothing to criticize. At Harry’s cauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face. “Potter, what is this supposed to be?”The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry. “The Draught of Peace,”said Harry tensely. “Tell me, Potter,”said Snape softly, “can you read?” Draco Malfoy laughed. “Yes, I can,”said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand. “Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multicolored steam now filling the dungeon. “‘Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.’”  
“Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?”“No,” said Harry very quietly. “I beg your pardon?”“No,”said Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore . . .”  
“I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.”The contents of Harry’s potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. “Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing,”said Snape. “Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.”Everyone began to fill their flagons with potion, and Harry just stood stupidly by his empty cauldron. And Hazel didn't feel the least bit sorry. 

When Snape's class was over and they had traveled to lunch when Hermione said “Your potion wasn’t nearly as bad as Goyle’s, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire.”  
“Yeah, well,”said Harry, glowering at his plate, “since when has Snape ever been fair to me?” “I did think he might be a bit better this year,”said Hermione in a disappointed voice. “I mean . . . you know . . .”She looked carefully around; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table. “. . . Now he’s in the Order and everything.”  
Hazel scoffed loudly.  
“Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots,”said Ron sagely. “Anyway, I’ve always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape, where’s the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?”  
“I think Dumbledore’s probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn’t share it with you, Ron,”snapped Hermione. “Oh, shut up, the pair of you,”said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. “Can’t you give it a rest?”he said. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” then Harry stood up, grabbed his school bag and left.  
"Hazel... do we fight that often?" Asked Hermione. "Yes! And it's driving me mad too." Said Hazel. "I'm heading to Divination. See you Hermione. See you there Ron." She said, then she hurried away.  
Hazel walked down the corridors and ran into Harry. "Oh." She said softly, then she kept walking.  
"Hi." Said Harry. "Hi." She replied flatly. "Are you feeling alright? You usually have a go at Snape when he has a go at me." Said Harry. "I'm feeling fine! Can't you stand up for yourself?" She asked, angrily. "Thats not what I meant." He said, looking a little hurt. "I know what you meant. And I don't particularly care." Said Hazel, then she rushed along down the corridors, leaving Harry behind. She walked into Professor Trelawney class and sat down in the back where she was joined by Neville soon after. She wathed Harry and Ron enter the room, Harry kept glancing back at her.  
The class was very boring, talking about dreams and what they meant, Neville told her about his dream; a pair of scissors wearing his gran's best hat. And Hazel made up some dream about being chased by a giant talking lynx, to which professor Trelawney said "Oh! A dream of much wisdom and suffering! You have been blessed and cursed my dear." Hazel nodded grimly, and waited til she walked away to pulled out a book and read it, not minding the rest of the class.  
She left quickly, to avoid Harry, and scurried along the corridors, listening to Harry calling her.  
When she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom she found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher’s desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Hazel sat down at a desk, her books in front of her. Then suddenly she saw a flash of red hair by her as Ron sat down on her left, and made a apologetic face. "Hi." Said Harry's voice, as he attempted to plop down next to her. "That seats for Hermione." Said Hazel, stiffly. He complied and sat down next to Ron, giving Hazel a smile, which she ignored. Hermione sat down next to Hazel and began to tell her all about ancient runes until more of the class began to file in. The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be. “Well, good afternoon!”she said when finally the whole class had sat down. A few people mumbled “Good afternoon,”in reply. “Tut, tut,”said Professor Umbridge. “That won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”  
“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,”they chanted back at her. “There, now,”said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order “wands away”had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Hazel recently shoved her wand into her pocket and pulled out a quill, ink, and parchment.  
Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once: Defense Against the Dark Arts A Return to Basic Principles “Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?”stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.  
You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”  
Hazel gave Hermione a worried look at the words "Ministry-Approved" Hermione looked equal worried.  
Professor Umbridge rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by: Course aims: 1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic. 2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used. 3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use. For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge’s three course aims she said, “Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class. “I think we’ll try that again,”said Professor Umbridge. “When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge,’or ‘No, Professor Umbridge.’So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?”  
“Yes, Professor Umbridge,”rang through the room. “Good,”said Professor Umbridge. “I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, ‘Basics for Beginners.’There will be no need to talk.”Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher’s desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad’s eyes. Hazel turned to page five of her copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read. It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. She felt her concentration sliding away from her; she had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to her, Ron was absentmindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Hazel looked right, Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.  
"All right?" Asked Hazel quietly. Hermione just shushed her.  
After several more minutes had passed, however, Hazel was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione’s mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge’s eye than to struggle on with “Basics for Beginners.” When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer. “Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?”she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her. “Not about the chapter, no,”said Hermione. “Well, we’re reading just now,”said Professor Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”  
“I’ve got a query about your course aims,”said Hermione. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. “And your name is —?”  
“Hermione Granger,”said Hermione. “Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,”said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness. “Well, I don’t,”said Hermione bluntly. “There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard. “Using defensive spells?”Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?”  
“We’re not going to use magic?” Ron asked loudly. “Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. —?”  
“Weasley,”said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air. Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge’s pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione. “Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”  
“Yes,”said Hermione. “Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?”  
“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?”asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice. “No, but —”  
“Well then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —”  
“What use is that?” said Harry loudly. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be in a —”  
“Hand, Mr. Potter!”sang Professor Umbridge. Harry thrust his fist in the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him again, but now several other people had their hands up too. “And your name is?” Professor Umbridge said to Dean. “Dean Thomas.”  
“Well, Mr. Thomas?”  
“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?”said Dean. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free —”  
“I repeat,”said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”  
“No, but —”  
Professor Umbridge talked over him. “I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,”she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed —not to mention,”she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”  
"Excuse me!?" Cried Hazel, suddenly incredibly angry.  
“If you mean Professor Lupin,”piped up Dean Thomas angrily, “he was the best we ever —”“Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying —you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —”

“No we haven’t,” Hazel said, “we just —”  
“And you are?”aske Umbridge.  
"Hazel Hatter, concerned student, and future Auror." Said Hazel, briskly. A few students sniggered at Hazel's answer.  
"Well then Miss Hatter," said Umbridge.  
“It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —”  
“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?”said Dean Thomas hotly. “Mind you, we still learned loads —”  
“Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!”trilled Professor Umbridge. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?”she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up. “Parvati Patil, and isn’t there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? " Yeah! There is! Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?” Asked Hazel.  
"Your hand, Miss Hatter! As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,”said Professor Umbridge dismissively. “Without ever practicing them before?”said Parvati incredulously. “Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam?”  
“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —”  
"What goods that?" Asked Hazel.  
“Yeah, what good’s theory going to be in the real world?”said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again. Professor Umbridge looked up. “This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,”she said softly. “So we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting out there?”  
"Harrys right! What about what's out there?" Asked Hazel, angrily.  
“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter, Miss Hazel.”  
“Oh yeah?”said Harry.  
“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?”inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice. “Hmm, let’s think . . .”said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, “maybe Lord Voldemort?” Hazel and Harry finished the sentence together in unison. Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. And Miss Hatter”The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge, Hazel, or Harry. “Now, let me make a few things quite plain.”Professor Umbridge stood up, leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk. “You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —”  
“He wasn’t dead,”said Harry angrily, “but yeah, he's returned!"  
"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,”said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.”  
“It is NOT a lie!” yelled Hazel and Harry.  
“I saw him, I fought him!” said Harry.  
“Detention, both of you!”said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. “Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’”  
"ITS NOT A LIE!" Yelled Hazel even louder. "And you cannot dismiss it like this!"  
Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, and Hazel, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at them; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated. “Harry, Hazel, no!”Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at Hazel's sleeve, but Hazel jerked her arm out of her reach. “So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?”Harry asked, his voice shaking.  
"How could he have? He was killed by Voldemort, using the Avada Kedavera curse, leaving no physical marks! And if there had been a reason for death other than Voldemort there would have been signs! And Cedric didn't have a heart attack if that's what your thinking because he was in perfectly good health!" Hazel could have kept yelling all day, she was letting her anger towards Harry and Cho out on Umbridge and it felt wonderful.  
There was a collective intake of breath from the class, they stared avidly from Harry to Hazel to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face. “Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident,”she said coldly. “It was murder,” said Hazel and Harry. She could feel her anger boiling and herself shaking. “Voldemort killed him, and you know it.” Said Hazel. Professor Umbridge’s face was quite blank. For a moment he thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, “Come here, Mr. Potter, and Miss Hatter.”  
Hazel slammed her chair away from herself and walked around the table, and walked with Harry to Professor Umbridge's desk. Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that they could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it. “Both of you take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to Harry. He took it from her without saying a word and the pair of them left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, and slamming the classroom door shut behind them. "Thanks for defending me." Said Harry stiffly. "I was defending Cedric." Said Hazel, simply.  
"Whats wrong with you! I mean really, what have I dont!?" He asked, angrily. "You know what Harry!? I don't think if I told you, you could even understand!" She replied.  
Suddenly they ran into peeves. “Why, it’s Potty Wee Potter! And his girlfriend, the Mad Hatter!”cackled Peeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; Harry jumped backward out of the way with a snarl. “Get out of it, Peeves.”  
“Oooh, Crackpot’s feeling cranky,”said Peeves, pursuing Harry along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above him. “What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in”—Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry —“tongues?”  
“I said, leave us ALONE!” Harry shouted, they began running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside him. “Oh, most think he’s barking, the Potty wee lad, But some are more kindly and think he’s just sad, But Peevesy knows better and says that he’s mad —”  
“SHUT UP!” yelled Hazel. Then a door to they're left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed. “What on earth are you shouting about, Miss Hatter?”she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. “Why aren’t you two in class?”  
“We've been sent to see you,”said Harry stiffly. “Sent? What do you mean, sent?”He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out, and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower. “Come in here, both of you, now.”He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him. “Well?”said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. “Is this true?”  
“Is what true?”Harry And Hazel asked. “Professor?” Harry added . “Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"  
"Yes." They said. “You called her a liar?”  
“Yes.”  
“You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?”  
“Yes.”  
Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, frowning at The pair of them.. Then she said, “Have a biscuit.”  
“What?”  
“Have a biscuit,”she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin of cookies lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. “And sit down.” They each sank into a chair opposite her and helped themselves to a biscuit, Harry, Ginger Newt, and Hazel, a oatmeal raisin, feeling confused. Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge’s note and looked very seriously at Harry. “You too need to be careful, especially you Hazel. You have a bit a temper.”Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt, while Hazel just stared at her biscuit. Her tone of voice was not at all what they were used to; it was not brisk, crisp, and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual. “Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge’s class could cost you much more than House points and a detention.”  
Hazel nodded gravely.  
“What do you —?” asked Harry.  
“Potter, use your common sense,”snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. “You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting.”The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move. “It says here she’s given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,”Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge’s note again. “Every evening this week!”Harry repeated, horrified. "Oh no!" Exclaimed Hazel, she suddenly felt her stomach do a flip. “But, Professor, couldn’t you —?”  
“No, I couldn’t,”said Professor McGonagall flatly. “But —.” said Harry  
“She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o’clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: Tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.”  
“But I was telling the truth!”said Harry, outraged. “Voldemort’s back, you know he is, Professor Dumbledore knows he is —”  
“For heaven’s sake, Potter!”said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort’s name). “Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It’s about keeping your head down and your temper under control!” She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and he stood too. “Have another biscuit,”she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him. “No, thanks,”said Hazel and Harry coldly. “Don’t be ridiculous,”she snapped. They took one. “Thanks,” Harry said grudgingly. “Didn’t you listen to Dolores Umbridge’s speech at the start-of-term feast?”  
"Yes." Said Hazel stiffly  
“Yeah,”said Harry. “Yeah . . . she said . . . progress will be prohibited or . . .well, it meant that . . . that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.”Professor McGonagall eyed him for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk, and held open the door for them. “Well, I’m glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,”she said, pointing him out of her office.  
Hazel and Harry walked out, and looked at each other.  
"Have a biscuit!" She cried, suddenly feeling the urge to laugh or cry. Harry didn't answer. "What are we gonna do? Angelina wanted us both there to see the tryouts. She is going to kill us." Said Harry.  
"I'm sorry." Said Hazel. "Me too. I have no clue what Angelina's going to say." Said Harry.  
"No I mean I'm sorry I'm such an idiot." Said Hazel.  
"What do you mean?" Asked Harry.  
"I was a total arse to you and you don't deserve it." She admitted.  
"Its ok. Thing happen." Said Harry, calmly.  
"Thanks. It just seems like we're always making up for some stupid fight." Said Hazel. "I know... it's like we are too much alike..." Said Harry.  
"Yeah. But next time something is wrong I'll just tell you to avoid all this." Said Hazel.  
"Thanks Haze."

 

Hazel was sitting in the common room, she had decided to skip dinner, she wasn't hungry, and she really didn't want to run into Angelina in the dining hall.  
Hazel looked up from her book and saw Hermione, Harry, and Ron enter the room, Hermione and Ron sat on the sofa and Harry sat on the armchair, he began to read a quidditch magazine. Hazel walked over to Harry and sat down on the arm and read over his shoulder. They chatted about the Fighting bullets, Hazel's favorite quidditch team, in Japan, they read the column listed 101 ways to polish your broom very carefully.  
“How can Dumbledore have let this happen?”Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump, Hazel fell off the arm in surprise; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. “How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our O.W.L. year too!“  
"Well, we’ve never had great Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?”said Harry. “You know what it’s like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job, they say it’s jinxed.”  
“Yes, but to employ someone who’s actually refusing to let us do magic! What’s Dumbledore playing at?”  
“And she’s trying to get people to spy for her.”said Hazel darkly.  
“Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who’s back?” asked Ron.  
“Of course she’s here to spy on us all, that’s obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?” snapped Hermione. “Don’t start arguing again,”said Harry wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. “Can’t we just . . . Let’s just do that homework, get it out of the way . .”  
They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. “Shall we do Snape’s stuff first?”said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. “‘The properties . . . of moonstone . . . and its uses . . . in potion-making . . .’”he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. “There.”He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione. “So what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?”But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the center of a knot of innocent-looking first years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding. “No, I’m sorry, they’ve gone too far,”she said, standing up and looking positively furious.  
"Normally I'm ok with the twins doing whatever it is they do... But this way too far." Said Hazel, she stood up. “Come on, Ron.”  
“I —what?”said Ron, plainly playing for time. “No —come on, Hermione —we can’t tell them off for giving out sweets . . .”  
“You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or —or Puking Pastilles or —”“Fainting Fancies?”Harry suggested quietly. One by one, as though hit over the heads with invisible mallets, the first years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right onto the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first years. Hazel rushed over with her.  
“That’s enough!”Hermione said forcefully.  
"Yeah! You must be heartless! Honestly you two, experimenting on first years!" Hazel said fiercely to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise. “Yeah, you’re right,”said George, nodding, “this dosage looks strong enough, doesn’t it?” Hazel looked absolutely scandalized at them.  
“I told you this morning, you can’t test your rubbish on students!” said Hermione“We’re paying them!”said Fred indignantly. “I don’t care, it could be dangerous!”  
“Rubbish,”said Fred. “Calm down, you two, they’re fine!” said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths. "Stay out of this Lee!" Said Hazel.“Yeah, look, they’re coming round now,”said George. A few of the first years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Hazel was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do. “Feel all right?”said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet. “I-I think so,”she said shakily. “Excellent,”said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands. “It is NOT excellent!”  
“’Course it is, they’re alive, aren’t they?”said Fred angrily. "Honeslty you guys... I'm disappointed, genuinely." Said Hazel, quietly. Fred and George looked slightly guilty. “You can’t do this, what if you made one of them really ill?”  
“We’re not going to make them ill, we’ve already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same —”  
“If you don’t stop doing it, I’m going to —”  
“Put us in detention?”said Fred in an I’d-like-to-see-you-try-it voice. “Make us write lines?”said George, smirking. Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height, as did Hazel, her being the height of the twins was a slight advantages; Hermione's eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity. “No,”she said, her voice quivering with anger, “but I will write to your mother.”  
“You wouldn’t,”said George, horrified, taking a step back from her. “Oh, yes, I would,”said Hermione grimly. “I can’t stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you’re not giving them to first years.”  
Hazel felt like writing Mrs Weasley was going a bit far, but Hazel didn't leave, even when Fred and George gave her a thunderstruck look. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione’s threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred’s clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms and stalked back to her chair by the fire. Ron was now so low in his seat that his nose was roughly level with his knees. “Thank you for your support, Ron,” Hermione said acidly. “You two handled it fine by yourself,”Ron mumbled. "Hazel should be a perfect!" Moaned Hermione. Ron looked a bit hurt as Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, “Oh, it’s no good, I can’t concentrate now. I’m going to bed.” She wrenched her bag open; Hazel thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill, and stood back to admire the effect. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing?”said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity. “They’re hats for house-elves,”she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. “I did them over the summer. I’m a really slow knitter without magic, but now I’m back at school I should be able to make lots more.”“You’re leaving out hats for the house-elves?”said Ron slowly. “And you’re covering them up with rubbish first?”  
“Yes,”said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back. “That’s not on,”said Ron angrily. “You’re trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You’re setting them free when they might not want to be free.”  
“Of course they want to be free!”said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. “Don’t you dare touch those hats, Ron!”She left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls’ dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats. “They should at least see what they’re picking up,”he said firmly.  
"She's become a bit mental with this. Tricking house elves into freeing themselves..." Said Hazel.  
“Anyway . . .” Ron said slowly then He rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape’s essay. “There’s no point trying to finish this now, I can’t do it without Hermione, I haven’t got a clue what you’re supposed to do with moonstones, have you?”Harry shook his head.  
"I do." Said Hazel. "I think I'd just rather go to bed." Said Ron. Hazel rolled her eyes at him, then he gathered up his books and headed away. "What about you Harry?" Asked Hazel. “I’m going to bed too.” he said, then he collected his books. Hazel sighed, collected her books and joined him on his way up stairs. They passed Seamus on the way to the door leading to the dormitories, but did not look at him. Hazel had a fleeting impression that Seamus had opened his mouth to speak, Hazel began to say something, but Harry grabbed her arm and lead her away, and reached the soothing peace of the stone spiral staircase.  
"Night Haze." Said Harry. "Good night Harry." Said Hazel.

 

The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast. “But on the plus side, no Snape today,”said Ron bracingly. Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, “The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all."  
“I wouldn’t bet on it,”Ron told her cuttingly. “They might not count as clothes. They didn’t look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.”Hazel began to laugh the second she took a sip of orange juice and began to choke, Harry clapped her on the back. Hermione did not speak to Ron all morning. Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of O.W.L.s. “What you must remember,”said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, “is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I’m afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!”They then spent more than an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their O.W.L., and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest amount of Charms homework ever. It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration. “You cannot pass an O.W.L.,”said Professor McGonagall grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.”Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. “Yes, you too, Longbottom,”said Professor McGonagall. “There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So . . . today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L.”She was quite right; Hazel found the Vanishing Spells quite easily, she managed to vanish her snail on her second try, earning her fifteen points for Gryffindor. By the end of a double period, neither he nor Ron had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practicing, though Ron said hopefully that he thought his looked a bit paler. Hermione, on the other hand, successfully vanished her snail on the third attempt, earning her a ten-point bonus for Gryffindor from Professor McGonagall. Hazel and Hermione were the only people not given homework; everybody else was told to practice the spell overnight, ready for a fresh attempt on their snails the following afternoon.  
Hazel and Hermione finished their essay on properties of moonstone quite quickly, then Hazel ran down to the library to help Ron and Harry, Hermione was still angry about Ron’s slur on her woolly hats, so she did not join them.


	2. Hazel Hatter and the order of the Phoenix part 2

By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, the day had become cool and breezy, and, as they walked down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid’s front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs. As Harry, Hazel, and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding toward them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table. Judging by the fact that all of them kept looking over at Harry, Hazel was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty. Hazel glared Pansy so intensely she took a step back and stopped laughing. “Everyone here?”barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. “Let’s crack on then —who can tell me what these things are called?”She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione’s and Hazel's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of Hermione jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy Parkinson gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand, and a funny, flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered. “Oooooh!”said Parvati and Lavender, thoroughly irritating Hazel: Anyone would have thought that Hagrid never showed them impressive creatures; admittedly the flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the salamanders and hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so. “Kindly keep your voices down, girls!”said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. “So —anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?”  
“Bowtruckles.”said Hermione. “They’re tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees.” Said Hazel  
“Ten points for Gryffindor,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger and Miss Hatter rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?”  
“Wood lice,”said Hermione. “But fairy eggs if they can get them.” added Hazel, matter-of-factly  
“Good girls, take another ten points. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you’d like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle —I have enough here for one between four —you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson. ”The class surged forward around the trestle table. Hazel followed Harry who deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Where’s Hagrid?”he asked her, while everyone else was choosing bowtruckles. “Never you mind,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle. “Maybe,”said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry and Hazel could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.”  
“Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,”said Harry out of the side of his mouth. "Maybe you'll spend another day as a ferret." Hazel said evilly. “Maybe he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get my drift.” Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Hazel, who suddenly felt sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater, after all; what if he had information about Hagrid’s fate that had not yet reached the Order’s ears? They hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione, who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a bowtruckle to remain still long enough to draw it. Hazel pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others, listened to Harry related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said. “Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid,” said Hermione at once. “It’s just playing into Malfoy’s hands to look worried, it tells him we don’t know exactly what’s going on. We’ve got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face . . .”   
“Yes,” came Malfoy’s clear drawl from the group nearest them, “Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry’s really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he’ll probably be sent packing straight away.”   
“OUCH!” Harry had gripped the bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped; it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Harry dropped it; Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed still harder as the bowtruckle set off at full tilt toward the forest, a little, moving stickman soon swallowed up by the tree roots. Hazel looked at Harry's fingers. "You're so daft. Letting him get to you like that." "Says the girl who threatens him constantly." Said Harry. "Because that's my job." She mumbled, then she tapped his wounds with her wand, they healed quickly. "Thanks." Said Harry.  
When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds Harry rolled up his bloodstained bowtruckle picture, Hazel grabbed her wand and very detailed bowtruckle picture, and marched off to Herbology, Malfoy’s derisive laughter still ringing in her ears. “If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time . . .”snarled Harry. “Harry, don’t go picking a row with Malfoy, don’t forget, he’s a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you . . .” Said Hermione.  
“Wow, I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life?”said Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned. "I'd imagine hard. You know, almost dying every year... oh wait..." Said Hazel, acting like she had just remembered something. Together they traipsed across the vegetable patch. The sky still appeared unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or not. “I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that’s all,”said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. “And don’t say that Grubbly-Plank woman’s a better teacher!” he added threateningly. “I wasn’t going to,”said Hermione calmly. “Because she’ll never be as good as Hagrid,”said Harry firmly. "Hagrid is a very good teacher, Harry. But-." Said Hazel.  
"But, what?" Asked Harry testily. "But it's always good to keep an open mind about other teaching methods." Said Hazel sternly. "So doing get offended before you know whats said!"  
The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth years spilled out of it, including Ginny. “Hi,”she said brightly as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello: “I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.”  
“Er —right,”said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes. “You can laugh!” Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing. Hazel was smiling broadly between Harry and Luna. “But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!”  
“Well, they were right, weren’t they?”said Hermione impatiently. “There weren’t any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.” Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now. Hazel scowled deeply. “D’you mind not offending the only people who believe me?” Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Harry, you can do better than her,”said Hermione. "Hermione! She's my friend!" Said Haze, quite offended. Suddenly Luna appeared in front of Hazel again. "Oh, I forgot! I made you a pair of earrings!" She said, brightly. "Really?" Asked Hazel, happily. "Yep!" Said Luna. Then she handed her a pair of earring that looked like sparkly pink tufts of fur. "This is a plant we grow in out back yard! I've put a preserving speed on them so they don't wilt." Said Luna. "Cool. Thanks!" Said Hazel, as she studied them. "They repeal nargles. Trust me." Said Luna, then she shot a look at Hermione and left abruptly. Hazel smiled at her earnings. "Nargles." Scoffed Hermione. Hazel frowned, then put on the earrings.  
“Ginny’s told me all about her, apparently she’ll only believe in things as long as there’s no proof at all. Well, I wouldn’t expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler.”Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him. “I want you to know, Potter,”he said in a loud, carrying voice, “that it’s not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.” he said “Er —thanks very much, Ernie,”said Harry. Ernie’s words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown’s face and, as Hazel turned to talk to Ron and Hermione, she caught Seamus’s expression, which looked both confused and defiant. To nobody’s surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of O.W.L.s.   
After a particularly boring, and hazy Herbology Harry and Hazel headed straight for dinner without dropping off their bags in Gryffindor Tower so that they could bolt something down before facing their detention. They had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice said, “Oy, Potter, Hatter!”  
“What now?” Harry muttered wearily. Hazel mumbled a reply, but it got lost in a yawn. Then they turned to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper. “I’ll tell you what now,”she said, marching straight up to Hazel and poking her hard in the chest with her finger, Hazel slapped her finger away, and gave her a deadly stare. “How come you’ve landed yourself in detention for five o’clock on Friday?”  
“What?”said Harry. “Why . . . oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!” Hazel rolls her eyes “Now he remembers!”snarled Angelina. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone? Didn’t I tell you I’d booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you’ve decided you’re not going to be there!” said Angelina. "Honestly!" Cried Hazel, exasperated. “We didn’t decide not to be there!” Harry scowled “We got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who —”“Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday,”said Angelina fiercely, “and I don’t care how you do it, tell her You-Know-Who’s a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you’re there!”She stormed away. "IT WON'T WORK!" Hazel yelled after her. "TRY!" Roared Angelina. “You know what?”Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. “I think we’d better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood’s been killed during a training session, because she seems to be channeling his spirit.”  
“What d’you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday?”said Ron skeptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. “Less than zero,”said Harry glumly, tipping lamb chops onto his plate and starting to eat.   
"Negative 12." Said Hazel, sighing. “Better try, though, hadn’t I? I’ll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno . . .” Said Harry. "Whoa whoa whoa. Two? I mean thats a little much." Said Hazel. "Do you want to make it to tryouts or not?" Asked Harry. "Obviously." Humbled Hazel.  
“I hope she doesn’t keep us too long this evening. You realize we’ve got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?” Harry asked Hazel. "I've only got the dream diary." Said Hazel. "Stop being so studious." Harry mumbled bitterly. Ron moaned and for some reason glanced up at the ceiling. “And it looks like it’s going to rain.”  
“What’s that got to do with our homework?”said Hermione, her eyebrows raised. “Nothing,”said Ron at once, his ears reddening. At five to five Harry and Hazel bade the other two good-bye and set off for Umbridge’s office on the third floor. "What do you think she'll do?" Asked Harry. "Dunno. Make us write lines?" Asked Hazel. "Maybe." Said Harry. When Hazel knocked on the door she said, “Come in,”in a sugary voice. They entered cautiously, looking around. Hazel had known this office under three of its previous occupants. In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of its owner. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moody’s days it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment. Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large Technicolored kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Hazel couldn't stand to stare at any except for the one, in the corner, not wearing a bow. It was just running around madly.  
Professor Umbridge spoke again. “Good evening, Mr. Potter and Miss Hatter.” Hazel started and looked around. She had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her. “Evening,”Harry said stiffly. Hazel didnt say anything. "I welcomed you Miss Hatter. You will respond." Said Umbridge in a sweet voice. "Good evening Professor Umbridge." Said Hazel, briskly. “Well, sit down,”she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up two straight-backed chairs. Two pieces of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for them. “Er,”said Harry, without moving. “Professor Umbridge? Er —before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a . . . a favor.” Her bulging eyes narrowed. “Oh yes?” “Well we . . . We're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And we were supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o’clock on Friday and I was —was wondering whether we could skip detention that night and do it —do it another night . . . instead . . .” Hazel gulped nervously, and it was completely audible. Umbridge turned and laid her eyes on Hazel, as thought she smelled her fear. “Oh no,”said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. “Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, my dears, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one’s convenience. No, you will come here at five o’clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.” Hazel suddenly swelled with anger, and the desire to punch this woman. So she told evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, did she? She was watching them with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what she was thinking and was waiting to see whether they would start shouting again. Hazel put her school bag on the floor, forcefully pulled out her chair, and sat down in it, net to Harry. “There,”said Umbridge sweetly, “we’re getting better at controlling our temper already, aren’t we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me. No, not with your quill,”she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. “You’re going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.”She handed them a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. “I want you to write ‘I must not tell lies,’”she told them softly. “How many times?”Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness. “Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,”said Umbridge sweetly. “Off you go.”She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Haz raised the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing. “You haven’t given us any ink,” Hazel said. “Oh, you won’t need ink,”said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice. The second Hazel began to write the first letter she felt a searing pain. Like a knife being dragged against her skin. She gasped as she looked down and saw the words I must not tell lies carved into her skin. In her own Cursive handwriting, but it was bright red. Hazel looked over Harry slightly, who was staring at his hand. He looked up at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Hazel looked up at professor Umbridge. She was watching them, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,”said Hazel and Harry quietly. Hazel looked down at her paper and began writing again. Her own handwriting being seared into her, leaving behind red hot pain. Soon Hazel began to realize she wasn't writing in ink at all... it was her blood. her own blood, that was once surging throughout her veins, and now it was in front of her on paper, for professor Umbridge to look over and feel pleased. Darkness fell outside Umbridge’s window. Hazel did not ask when she would be allowed to stop. She didnt even look up to check the clock. She did not want Umbridge to know she wanted to throw her quill across the room and cry out in pain. For all she cared she could sit there all night, cutting her hand open, over and over again. Just to show Umbridge she couldn't break her. So she kept writing and writing. “Come here,”Umbridge said, after what seemed hours. They stood up. Hazel's hand was stinging painfully. When she looked down at it she saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw. “Hand,”she said. They extended their hands. She took them in her own. Hazel tried not to flinch as Umbridge ran her stubby fingers over her cut.“Tut, tut, I don’t seem to have made much of an impression yet,”she said, smiling. “Well, we’ll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won’t we? You may go.” They left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. They broke into a quiet run around the corner before, out of Umbridge's earshot. Then Hazel closed her eyes and kicked the nearest thing to her, which just happened to be a statue. "That evil foul woman!" Yelled Hazel, now clutching her foot, hopping uo and down. "I know. I know." Said Harry, as he tried to keep her from falling. "Let me see yours." Said Hazel. Harry held out his hand. Hazel tried to fix it with magic. But it didnt work. "I'm speechless. How could she do this?" Asked Hazel. "We should tell someone."   
"Who? Hermione? She'll just tell us to go to Dumbledore!" Said Harry, bitterly. "It was just a suggestion!" Hazel yelled. Hazel suddenly felt like crying, madly. But she kept walking, glancing over at Harry five times a minute, but he seemed preoccupied.  
The next morning Harry and Hazel skipped breakfast to do their dream diary. “How come you didn’t do it last night?”Harry asked, as Ron stared wildly around the common room for inspiration. Ron muttered something about “doing other stuff,”bent low over his parchment, and scrawled a few words. “That’ll have to do,”he said, slamming the diary shut, “I’ve said I dreamed I was buying a new pair of shoes, she can’t make anything weird out of that, can she?”   
"Oh my dear! You are in grave danger! Tomorrow at dawn you will be attacked by a mob of angry bowtruckle's." Said Hazel, imitating Professor Trelawney. Harry began to laugh, and Ron groaned. They hurried off to North Tower together. “How was detention with Umbridge, anyway? What did she make you do?” Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, “Lines.” Hazel nodded. "Yeah. Lots if lines." Said Hazel, grimly. “That’s not too bad, then, eh?”said Ron. “Nope,” said Harry. “Hey —I forgot —did she let you off for Friday?”  
“No,”said Harry. Hazel scoffed. "Of course not." Ron groaned sympathetically. Hazel It was another bad day for Harry; he was one of the worst in Transfiguration, not having practiced Vanishing Spells at all, Hazel vanished his snail for him, feeling bad. But Professor Mcgonagall caught her and said "Though your actions where admirable, Miss Hatter, Mr Potter needs to do it own work". He had to give up his lunch hour to complete the picture of the bowtruckle, Hazel sat with him and let him copy off her paper, his came out looking odd and deformed and meanwhile, Professors McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank, and Sinistra gave them yet more homework. To cap it all, Angelina Johnson tracked the two of them down at dinner again and, on learning that they would not be able to attend Friday’s Keeper tryouts, told them she was not at all impressed by their attitude and that she expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments. "For heavens sake! We are in bloody detention!" Yelled Hazel, angrily after her as she stalked away. “D’you think I’d rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch?” cried Harry.  
“At least it’s only lines,”said Hermione consolingly. “It’s not as if it’s a dreadful punishment, really . . .” Hazel stared at her plate. Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and nodded. “I can’t believe how much homework we’ve got,”said Ron miserably. “Well, why didn’t you do any last night?”Hermione asked him. “Where were you anyway?”  
“I was . . . I fancied a walk,”said Ron shiftily. Hazel stared at Ron until he engulfed him self in mashed potatoes. She had the feeling that he was keeping something. And she wanted to know.  
That evening Harry and Hazel ventured to Umbridge's, frowning. They spent hours writing their own blood. She let no moan of pain escape him, however, and from the moment of entering the room to the moment of his dismissal, again past midnight, they said nothing but “Good evening”and “Good night.” Hazel and Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, and Hazel helped Harry begin Snape’s moonstone essay. It was half-past two by the time they finished. 

And the next night they did the same. Hazel's right hand turned, and twitched involuntarily. She couldn't help but wince as the pain grew worse. And no matter how much it healed it was just cut right back open to start the torture again. Hazel and Harry had been called up to Umbridge's desk where she inspected their hands. “Ah,”she said softly. “Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn’t it? You may leave for tonight.”  
“Do we still have to come back tomorrow?”said Harry, picking up his schoolbag with his left hand rather than his smarting right. “Oh yes,”said Professor Umbridge, smiling widely as before. “Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening’s work.”  
"I hate her! I absolutely hate her!" Exclaimed Hazel as they climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, "She’s an evil, twisted, mad, old —."   
“Ron?” they had reached the top of the stairs, turned right, and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw them and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back. “What are you doing?”asked Harry. “Er —nothing. What are you doing?”Harry frowned at him. “Come on, you can tell us! What are you hiding here for?” asked Hazel, kindly. “I’m —I’m hiding from Fred and George, if you must know,”said Ron. “They just went past with a bunch of first years, I bet they’re testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can’t do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there.”He was talking in a very fast, feverish way. “But what have you got your broom for, you haven’t been flying, have you?”Harry asked. “I —well —well, okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t laugh, all right?”Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. “I-I thought I’d try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I’ve got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.” Hazel began to smile broadly. “I’m not laughing,”said Harry. Ron blinked. “It’s a brilliant idea! It’d be really cool if you got on the team! I’ve never seen you play Keeper, are you good?” Said Hazel. “I’m not bad,”said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at their reaction. “Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays.” said Ron. “So you’ve been practicing tonight?” Asked Harry.“Every evening since Tuesday . . . just on my own, though, I’ve been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn’t been easy and I don’t know how much use it’ll be.” Ron looked nervous and anxious.  
“Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven’t stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.”  
“I wish I was going to be there,” said Harry bitterly, as they set off toward the common room. “Yeah, so do —Harry, what’s that on the back of your hand?”Harry, who had just scratched his nose with his free right hand, tried to hide it, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep. “It’s just a cut —it’s nothing —it’s —” Ron's eyes shifted to Hazel's hand too, barely hiding beneath the cuff of her robes. But Ron had grabbed their forearms and pulled the back of their hands up level with his eyes. There was a pause, during which he stared at the words carved into the skin, then he released Harry, looking sick. “I thought you said she was giving you lines?”  
"Well... She was... sort of..." said Hazel quietly. “The old hag!”Ron said in a revolted whisper as they came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was dozing peacefully with her head against her frame. “She’s sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!”  
“No,”said Harry at once. “I’m not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she’s got to me.”   
“Got to you? You can’t let her get away with this!”  
“I don’t know how much power McGonagall’s got over her,”said Harry. “Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!”  
“No,”said Harry flatly.   
“Why not?”  
“He’s got enough on his mind,”said Harry. “Well, I reckon you should —”Ron began, but he was interrupted by the Fat Lady, who had been watching them sleepily and now burst out, “Are you going to give me the password or will I have to stay awake all night waiting for you to finish your conversation?” she asked irritability. "Listen, me and Harry have already discussed it. And its a no. And don't you dare tell Hermione." Said Hazel, as Harry gave the password.

 

Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week. Haze tried to help Harry with his homework after she finished hers. Trying to get it done before detention. "No Harry. That's not how you spell tremendous. It's t-r-e-m-e-n-d-o-u-s, not t-r-e-m-e-n-d-i-s." Said Hazel wearily as Harry worked on his home work for Mcgonagall. Harry glanced back at his paper, then up at Hazel. "Thats how I've spelled it." He said, pointing to the word. "Oh. Well, you've spelled vanishing wrong." Said Hazel. Harry groaned and re-wrote the word. Hazel moaned and set her head down on the table.  
Two things sustained Hazel that day. One was the thought that it was almost the weekend; the other was that, dreadful though her final detention with Umbridge was sure to be, she had a distant view of the Quidditch pitch from her window and might, with luck, be able to see something of Ron’s tryout. These were rather feeble rays of light, it was true, but Hazel was grateful for anything that might lighten her present darkness; she had never had a worse first week of term at Hogwarts. At five o’clock that evening Harry knocked on Professor Umbridge’s office door for what Hazel sincerely hoped would be the final time, was told to enter and did so. The blank parchment lay ready for him on the lace-covered table, the pointed black quill beside it. “You know what to do, Mr. Potter and Miss Hatter,”said Umbridge, smiling sweetly over at them. Hazel picked up her quill, pretended to start writing and began to think. If She just shifted her chair an inch or so to the right . . . On the pretext of shifting herself closer to the table she managed it. She now had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. Hazel looked at Harry, who was also watching the quidditch pitch. It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance. I must not tell lies, Hazel wrote. Her cut opened and began to bleed again. I must not tell lies. The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting. I must not tell lies. Blood trickled down her wrist. She chanced another glance out of the window. Whoever was defending the goalposts now was doing a very poor job indeed. Katie Bell scored twice in the few seconds Hazel dared watch. Hoping very much that the Keeper wasn’t Ron, she dropped his eyes back to the parchment dotted with blood. I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies. She looked up whenever she thought she could risk it, when she could hear the scratching of Umbridge’s quill or the opening of a desk drawer. The third person to try out was pretty good, the fourth was terrible, the fifth dodged a Bludger exceptionally well but then fumbled an easy save. The sky was darkening so that Hazel doubted she would be able to watch the sixth and seventh people at all. I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies. The parchment was now shining with drops of blood from the back of her hand, which was searing with pain. When she next looked up, night had fallen and the Quidditch pitch was no longer visible. “Let’s see if you’ve gotten the message yet, shall we?”said Umbridge’s soft voice half an hour later. She moved toward them, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for their arms. Hazel flinched as Umbridge held her arm tightly. Then suddenly Harry wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. Hazel gaped at Harry. What happened? He wouldn't have showed her it hurt... he would have hid it. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?”she said softly. He did not answer. “Well, I think I’ve made my point, Mr. Potter and Miss Hatter. You may go.”Harry caught up his schoolbag and left the room as quickly as he could. Hazel stared after him for a moment, grabbed her bag and rushed after him. "What happened?" She demanded. "Nothing." He said breathlessly. "I'm not an idiot so dont patronize me. What happened?" She said fiercely. "My scar. It hurt when she touched me." Said Harry, he sounded slightly shaky. Hazel stopped walking. "Why haven't you told me before?" Asked Hazel. "It just happened tonight." He insisted. "What do you think it means?" She asked. "I don't know. But I'm not sure I want to find out." He said. Hazel looked at him, he looked horrible. Like he'd seen a ghost. "You look absolutely terrible." She said. "I feel terrible. I feel like I might be sick." Said Harry. "Come on. Let's go. Back to your dormitory." Said Hazel, then she put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm fine to walk." He said. "I'm not having you collapsing on the floor." She said replied, half joking, half incredibly serious. After an attempt to argue he gave in a walked with her, his arm around her shoulder. “Mimbulus mimbletonia.” said Hazel, when they reached the portrait hole. A roar of sound greeted them. Ron came running toward them, beaming all over his face and slopping butterbeer down his front from the goblet he was clutching. “Harry, Hazel I did it, I’m in, I’m Keeper!”  
“What? Oh —brilliant!”said Harry, trying to smile naturally. "Congratulations." Said Hazel, smiling. “Have a butterbeer.” Ron pressed a bottle onto Harry and Hazel's hands. “I can’t believe it —where’s Hermione gone?”  
“She’s there,”said Fred, who was also swigging butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand. “Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,” said Ron, looking slightly put out. “Let her sleep,”said George hastily. It was a few moments before Hazel noticed that several of the first years gathered around them bore unmistakable signs of recent nosebleeds. Hazel glared at the twins, almost in a Mrs Weasley type way, and they slowly backed away, and tried to help the first years recover. “Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver’s old robes fit you,” called Katie Bell. “We can take off his name and put yours on instead . . .”As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Harry and Hazel. “Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier,”she said abruptly. “It’s stressful, this managing lark, you know, I’m starting to think I was a bit hard on Wood sometimes.” She was watching Ron over the rim of her goblet with a slight frown on her face. “Look, I know he’s your best mate, but he’s not fabulous,”she said bluntly. “I think with a bit of training he’ll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players. I’m banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better this evening, but Hooper’s a real whiner, he’s always moaning about something or other, and Vicky’s involved in all sorts of societies, she admitted herself that if training clashed with her Charm Club she’d put Charms first. Anyway, we’re having a practice session at two o’clock tomorrow, so just make sure you’re there this time. And do me a favor and help Ron as much as you two can, okay?” They nodded and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Hazel and Harry moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as they put down their bags. “Oh, Harry, Hazel, it’s you. . . . Good about Ron, isn’t it?”she said blearily. “I’m just so —so —so tired,”she yawned. “I was up until one o’clock making more hats. They’re disappearing like mad!”   
“Great,”said Harry. Hazel nudged him, and gave him a look. “Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge’s office and she touched my arm . . .”Hermione listened closely. When Harry had finished she said slowly, “You’re worried that You-Know-Who’s controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?”  
“Well,”said Harry, dropping his voice, “it’s a possibility, isn’t it?”  
“I suppose so,”said Hermione, though she sounded unconvinced. “But I don’t think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, he’s properly alive again now, isn’t he, he’s got his own body, he wouldn’t need to share someone else’s. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose . . .”   
“But last year your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn’t Dumbledore say it had to do with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn’t got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe it’s just coincidence it happened while you were with her?” Hazel pointed out.   
“She’s evil,”said Harry flatly. “Twisted,” added Hazel. "I know but-."  
“She’s horrible, yes, but . . . Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt.” It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron. “I’m not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it’s not a big deal. It’s been hurting on and off all summer —it was just a bit worse tonight, that’s all —”  
“Harry, I’m sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this —”  
“Yeah,”said Harry, before he could stop himself, “that’s the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn’t it, my scar?”  
“Don’t say that, it’s not true!”  
"Now Harry. Come on. Don't be like that." Said Hazel, quickly.  
“I think I’ll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks —”  
“Harry, you can’t put something like that in a letter!”said Hermione, looking alarmed. “Don’t you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We just can’t guarantee owls aren’t being intercepted anymore!”  
“All right, all right, I won’t tell him, then!”said Harry irritably. He got to his feet. “I’m going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?”  
“Oh no,”said Hermione, looking relieved, “if you’re going that means I can go without being rude too, I’m absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it’s quite fun, I’m getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now.”Harry looked into her face. “Er . . . no, I don’t think I will, thanks,”he said. “Er —not tomorrow. I’ve got loads of homework to do . . .” And he traipsed off to the boys’ stairs, leaving her looking slightly disappointed behind him. Hermione then turned to Hazel, hopefully. "Yeah... I'll help. I'm good at knitting." Said Hazel. Hazel squeezed with glee and ran up to the girls' stairs. Hazel stayed in the common room till the party was over, and she then went to bed.

The next morning Hazel to awoke to bits of sunlight trickling into her room, and the birds twittered. And for once, waking up in the morning, made her feel oddly happy. She got out of her bed, put on a short, light pink dress with a scalloped skirt, a fitted waist, and long gathered sleeves, black wooly tights, as well as a pair of short brown boots and a long vest. She grabbed her wand and headed for the common room. She walked down the girls stair case, and into the quiet common room where she saw someone sitting in the large armchair where she usually sat. She walked forward and realized it was Harry.   
He sat quite motionless for a while, gazing into the fireplace, then he dipped his quill into an ink bottle and set it resolutely upon a peice parchment.. Hazel walked up to him an nudged his left elbow off of the arm of the chair, and sat down. "Morning." She said, brightly. "Morning. You seem awfully happy for this early in the morning." Said Harry. "It's the weekend. No classes. No home work. And no more detention." Said Hazel. "Ah. I get it." Said Harry. "Yup. So what are you doing?" Hazel asked. "Writing a letter to Sirius." Said Harry quietly. "Oh. I'll walk down to the Owlery with you once your done." Said Hazel. "Ok." Said Harry. And he began to write.  
Dear Snuffles, Hope you’re okay, the first week back here’s been terrible, I’m really glad it’s the weekend. We’ve got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She’s nearly as nice as your mum. I’m writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge. We’re all missing our biggest friend, we hope he’ll be back soon. Please write back quickly. Best, Harry and Hazel. Hazel reread this letter several times, spell checking, making sure it wouldn't be too easy or to hard to understand.   
"Alright. That's really good." Said Hazel, being unusually kind. "Really?" Asked Harry. "Yep. And clever." She said. "Now let's go. I don't want to spend my whole weekend knitting hats for house elves. Which you will be helping with, by the way." She added, sounding more like herself. "No I won't." Said Harry as they stood up. "Yes you will." She insisted. "No way." He said, Sealing the parchment carefully as they climbed through the portrait hole and headed off for the Owlery. Hazel and Harry began to laugh, arguing about whether or not Harry would be knitting.  
“I would not go that way if I were you,”said Nearly Headless Nick, drifting disconcertingly through a wall just ahead of them as he walked down the passage. “Peeves is planning an amusing joke on the next person to pass the bust of Paracelsus halfway down the corridor.”  
“Does it involve Paracelsus falling on top of the person’s head?”asked Harry. “Funnily enough, it does,”said Nearly Headless Nick in a bored voice. “Subtlety has never been Peeves’s strong point." Said Haze, jokingly. "I’m off to try and find the Bloody Baron. . . . He might be able to put a stop to it. . . . See you, Harry, MIss Hatter . . .”  
“Yeah, ’bye,”said Harry and instead of turning right, They turned left, taking a longer but safer route up to the Owlery. As they walked something brushed their ankles. Hazel looked down and saw the caretaker’s skeletal gray cat, Mrs. Norris, slinking past them. She turned lamplike yellow eyes upon them for a moment before disappearing behind a statue of Wilfred the Wistful. “I’m not doing anything wrong,”Harry called after her. "Honest. Just sending a letter." Added Hazel. Mrs. Norris had the unmistakable air of a cat that was off to report to her boss, yet Hazel could not see why; they were perfectly entitled to walk up to the Owlery on a Saturday morning. The sun was high in the sky now and when them entered the Owlery the glassless windows dazzled their eyes; thick silvery beams of sunlight crisscrossed the circular room in which hundreds of owls nestled on rafters, a little restless in the early morning light, some clearly just returned from hunting. The straw-covered floor crunched a little as they stepped across tiny animal bones. Harry was craning his neck for a sight of Hedwig. “There you are,” he said, spotting her somewhere near the very top of the vaulted ceiling. “Get down here, I’ve got a letter for you.” With a low hoot she stretched her great white wings and soared down onto his shoulder. “Right, I know this says ‘Snuffles’ on the outside,” he told her, giving her the letter to clasp in her beak and, without knowing exactly why, whispering, “but it’s for Sirius, okay?”She blinked her amber eyes once and he took that to mean that she understood. “Safe flight, then,” said Harry and he carried her to one of the windows; with a moment’s pressure on his arm Hedwig took off into the blindingly bright sky. "I wish I had an owl." Said Hazel, longingly, watching Hedwig fly gracefully away. "You can use her whenever you want." Said Harry. "Awe. Thanks." She said. They watched her until she became a tiny black speck and vanished. Then Hazel saw him look down at Hagrid's hut. "He'll be back. Don't worry, Harry." Said Hazel softly. "I know I just hope he's-." Then suddenly his eyes opened wide, and he gasped. "What? What is it!" She asked, quickly. "There! Just there don't you see it?" He asked, pointing to the sky. Hazel looked hard and long at where he pointed. "I don't. What was it?" Asked Hazel, feeling sad. "Well, it pulls the horseless carriages. It's a sort of black horse. Except it's more of the skeleton of a horse. And its got huge black wings. It's a bit horrifying, but fascinating." He said, trying his best to describe it, he was now looking at Hazel. Hazel frowned. "I really really wish I could see it." She said, sadly. "I'm sorry." He said, looking troubled. The Owlery door opened behind them. They leapt in shock, as the silence broke, and turning quickly, they saw Cho Chang holding a letter and a parcel in her hands. “Hi,” said Harry automatically. “Oh . . . hi. Hi Hazel.”she said breathlessly. "Hello." Said Hazel, shortly. “I didn’t think anyone would be up here this early. . . . I only remembered five minutes ago, it’s my mum’s birthday.” She held up the parcel. Hazel glarred at Cho slightly. “Right,”said Harry. “Nice day,”he said, gesturing to the windows. Hazel gaped at his stupidity. “Yeah,”said Cho, looking around for a suitable owl. “Good Quidditch conditions. I haven’t been out all week, have you?”  
“No,”said Harry. Cho and Harry seemed to have completely forgot Hazel was there. She had selected one of the school barn owls. She coaxed it down onto her arm where it held out an obliging leg so that she could attach the parcel. “Hey, has Gryffindor got a new Keeper yet?”she asked. “Yeah,”said Harry. “It’s my friend Ron Weasley, d’you know him?”  
“The Tornado-hater?”said Cho rather coolly. “Is he any good?”  
“Yeah,”said Harry, “I think so. I didn’t see his tryout, though, I was in detention.”Cho looked up, the parcel only half-attached to the owl’s legs. “That Umbridge woman’s foul,”she said in a low voice. “Putting you in detention just because you told the truth about how —how —how he died. Everyone heard about it, it was all over the school. You were really brave standing up to her like that.”  
"I stood up to her too." Mumbled Hazel, bitterly. Then the Owlery door opened again. Filch, the caretaker, came wheezing into the room. There were purple patches on his sunken, veined cheeks, his jowls were aquiver and his thin gray hair disheveled; he had obviously run here. Mrs. Norris came trotting at his heels, gazing up at the owls overhead and mewing hungrily. There was a restless shifting of wings from above, and a large brown owl snapped his beak in a menacing fashion. “Aha!”said Filch, taking a flat-footed step toward Harry, and Hazel, his pouchy cheeks trembling with anger. “I’ve had a tip-off that you two are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs!” Harry folded his arms, Hazel rolled her eyes and stared at the caretaker. “Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?”Cho was looking from Harry to Hazel to Filch, also frowning; the barn owl on her arm, tired of standing on one leg, gave an admonitory hoot but she ignored it. “I have my sources,” said Filch in a self-satisfied hiss. “Now hand over whatever it is you’re sending.”Harry said, “I can’t, it’s gone.”  
“Gone?”said Filch, his face contorting with rage. “Yes, Gone,”said Hazel irritated. Filch opened his mouth furiously, mouthed for a few seconds, then raked Harry’s and Hazel's robes with his eyes. “How do I know you haven’t got it in your pocket?”“Because —”  
“I saw him send it,”said Cho angrily. Filch rounded on her. “You saw him —?”  
“That’s right, I saw him,”she said fiercely. There was a moment’s pause in which Filch glared at Cho and Cho glared right back, then the caretaker turned and shuffled back toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and looked back at Harry. “If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb . . .” He stumped off down the stairs. Mrs. Norris cast a last longing look at the owls and followed him. Harry and Cho looked at each other. “Thanks,”Harry said. “No problem,”said Cho, finally fixing the parcel to the barn owl’s other leg, her face slightly pink. “You weren’t ordering Dungbombs, were you?”  
“No,”said Harry. “I wonder why he thought you were, then?”she said, as she carried the owl to the window. "If we'd wanted dung bombs I'd have just asked Fred and George." Muttered Hazel, she had expected Harry to agree, but he was watching Cho tentatively. Hazel rolled her eyes, and seeing Harry was preoccupied she slipped out of the Owlery and walked through the corridors, she headed to the great hall and sat down by Ron and Hermione. "Where have you been?" Asked Ron, taking a bite of sausage. "I was with Harry. We went to the Owlery." Said Hazel, stiffly. "Where's he now?" Asked Hermione. "I'd guess snogging." Said Hazel. "Snogging? Snogging who?" Asked Ron, dropping his fork. "Cho Chang." Said Hazel, bitterly as she poured herself some coffee. "Don't be stupid." Said Hermione. Hazel didn't respond, she just shoveled some eggs into her mouth, finished her coffee, and stood up. "Where are you going now?" Asked Hermione. "Home work." Said Hazel. "You finished all your homework." Said Hermione. "Um... I think I forgot about my dream diary." Said Hazel. "You have all weekend." Said Ron. "I didn't ask you Ronald." Said Hazel, bitterly. Hazel threw her school bag over her shoulder and began to walk away. "You can't avoid Harry all day." Hermione called after her. "I can try." Mumbled Hazel. Hazel walked out of the great hall, turned the corner, and and almost ran into someone. "Hey Hazel. Where'd you go?" Asked Harry, as he stepped out of her way. Hazel scowled gravely. "No where." She said. Then she rushed away, not sure where to go but the library. She sat in the library, cooling off, reading book after book after book. Then finally, after feeling better, and not as angry she headed back to the Gryffindor common room. She walked through the portrait hole and saw Harry was walking with Ron, they were laughing. As Hazel approached Ron looked at Harry, then walked away, giving them some space. "Hi." Said Hazel. "Hi." Said Harry.  
"I'm sorry I was short with you this morning, I was a bit preoccupied and angry." Said Hazel. "Its ok. It happens." Said Harry. "So... where you headed to?" She asked. "No where in particular." Said Harry. "Good! Fancy a game of chess?" She asked. "Yes." Said Harry. "But Ron can't referee, he always let's you win." Said Hazel. "No. I've never seen that happen." Said Harry. "Harry James Potter." Said Hazel, rolling her eyes.

 

“Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on Self-Fertilizing Shrubs first, and if we’re lucky we’ll be able to start McGonagall’s Inanimatus Conjurus before lunch . . .”  
“I mean, we can do it tonight,”said Ron, as Harry, Ron, and Hazel walked down the sloping lawns toward the Quidditch pitch, their broomsticks over their shoulders, Hermione’s dire warnings that the boys would fail their O.W.L.s still ringing in their ears. “And you’ve got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, that’s her trouble . . .” Said Ron. "But you can't really blame her. She's right." Said Hazel. Ron didn't respond, he just looked incredibly worried. “D’you think she meant it when she said we weren’t copying from her?”  
“Yeah, I do,”said Harry. "You're not copying from me either." Said Hazel, firmly. “Still, this is important too, we’ve got to practice if we want to stay on the Quidditch team . . .”  
“Yeah, that’s right,”said Ron in a heartened tone. “And we have got plenty of time to do it all . . .” They collected balls from the cupboard in the changing room and set to work, Ron guarding the three tall goalposts, Harry and Hazel playing a Chaser and trying to get the Quaffle past Ron. Hazel thought Ron was pretty good; he blocked three-quarters of the goals they attempted to put past him and played better the longer they practiced. After a couple of hours they returned to the school, where they ate lunch, during which Hermione made it quite clear that she thought they were irresponsible, then returned to the Quidditch pitch for the real training session. All their teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered. “All right, Ron?”said George, winking at him. “Yeah,”said Ron, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch. “Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?” said Fred, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a slightly malicious grin on his face. “Shut up,”said Ron, stony-faced, pulling on his own team robes for the first time.   
Hazel quickly got on her team robes and picked up her broomstick, a DragonFlyer200. “Okay everyone,”said Angelina, entering from the Captain’s office, already changed. “Let’s get to it; Hazel and Fred, if you can just bring the ball crate out for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?” Something in her would-be casual voice made Hazel think she might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when they left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Slytherin Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium. “What’s that Weasley’s riding?”Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. “Why would anyone put a Flying Charm on a moldy old log like that?” Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter. "SHUT UP!" Yelled Hazel, loudly. Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground and Harry and Hazel followed him, watching his ears turn red from behind. “Ignore them,”he said, accelerating to catch up with Ron. "Not a chance." Said Hazel.   
“We’ll see who’s laughing after we play them . . .”  
“Exactly the attitude I want, Harry,”said Angelina approvingly, soaring around them with the Quaffle under her arm and slowing to hover on the spot in front of her airborne team. “Okay everyone, we’re going to start with some passes just to warm up, the whole team please —”  
“Hey, Johnson, what’s with that hairstyle anyway?”shrieked Pansy Parkinson from below. “Why would anyone want to look like they’ve got worms coming out of their head?” Angelina swept her long braided hair out of her face and said calmly, “Spread out, then, and let’s see what we can do . .” Harry reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Ron fell back toward the opposite goal. Hazel stayed exactly where she was, keeping her eye on the Quaffle. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed it to Hazel, who passed to Ron, who dropped it. The Slytherins, led by Malfoy, roared and screamed with laughter. Hazel opened her mouth to roar back, but Harry nudged her in the shoulder. Ron, who had pelted toward the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. Hazel saw Fred and George exchange looks, but uncharacteristically neither of them said anything, for which he was grateful. “Pass it on, Ron,”called Angelina, as though nothing had happened. Ron threw the Quaffle to Hazel, who passed back to Harry, who passed to George. . . . “Hey, Potter, how’s your scar feeling?”called Malfoy. “Sure you don’t need a lie-down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that’s a record for you, isn’t it?”  
"I'm going to land him in the hospital if he doesn't shut up." Mumbled Hazel.  
Fred passed to Angelina; she reverse passed to Harry, who had not been expecting it, but caught it in the very tips of his fingers and passed it quickly to Ron, who lunged for it and missed by inches. “Come on now, Ron,”said Angelina crossly, as Ron dived for the ground again, chasing the Quaffle. “Pay attention.”It would have been hard to say whether Ron’s face or the Quaffle was a deeper scarlet when he returned again to playing height. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team were howling with laughter. On his third attempt, Ron caught the Quaffle; perhaps out of relief he passed it on so enthusiastically that it soared straight through Katie’s outstretched hands and hit her hard in the face. “Sorry!” Ron groaned, zooming forward to see whether he had done any damage. “Get back in position, she’s fine!” barked Angelina. “But as you’re passing to a teammate, do try not to knock her off her broom, won’t you? We’ve got Bludgers for that!” Katie’s nose was bleeding. Down below the Slytherins were stamping their feet and jeering. Fred and George converged on Katie. “Here, take this,”Fred told her, handing her something small and purple from out of his pocket. “It’ll clear it up in no time.”  
“All right,”called Angelina, “Fred, George, go and get your bats and a Bludger; Ron, get up to the goalposts, Harry, release the Snitch when I say so. We’re going to aim for Ron’s goal, obviously.” Harry zoomed off after the twins to fetch the Snitch. When Angelina blew her whistle, Harry released the Snitch and Fred and George let fly the Bludger. He accelerated, rolling and swerving in and out of the Chasers, the warm autumn air whipping his face and the distant yells of the Slytherins so much meaningless roaring in his ears. . . . But too soon, the whistle brought him to a halt again. “Stop —stop —STOP!”screamed Angelina. “Ron —you’re not covering your middle post!”Harry looked around at Ron, who was hovering in front of the left-hand hoop, leaving the other two completely unprotected, and Hazel scoffed a goal. “Oh . . . sorry . . .”  
“You keep shifting around while you’re watching the Chasers!”said Angelina. “Either stay in center position until you have to move to defend a hoop, or else circle the hoops, but don’t drift vaguely off to one side, that’s how you let in the last three goals!”  
“Sorry . . .” Ron repeated, his red face shining like a beacon against the bright blue sky. “And Katie, can’t you do something about that nosebleed?”  
“It’s just getting worse!”said Katie thickly, attempting to stem the flow with her sleeve. Hazel glanced around at Fred, who was looking anxious and checking his pockets. She saw Fred pull out something purple, examine it for a second, and then look around at Katie, evidently horrorstruck. “Well, let’s try again,”said Angelina. She was ignoring the Slytherins, who had now set up a chant of “Gryffindor are losers, Gryffindor are losers,”but there was a certain rigidity about her seat on the broom nevertheless. This time they had been flying for barely three minutes when Angelina’s whistle sounded. Harry, who had just sighted the Snitch circling the opposite goalpost, pulled up feeling distinctly aggrieved. “What now?”he said impatiently to Hazel, who was nearest. “Katie,”she said shortly. Hazel had turned and saw Angelina, Fred, and George all flying as fast as they could toward Katie. Harry and Hazel sped toward her too. It was plain that Angelina had stopped training just in time; Katie was now chalk-white and covered in blood. “She needs the hospital wing,”said Angelina. “We’ll take her,”said Fred. “She —er —might have swallowed a Blood Blisterpod by mistake —”  
“Well, there’s no point continuing with no Beaters and a Chaser gone,” said Angelina glumly, as Fred and George zoomed off toward the castle supporting Katie between them. “Come on, let’s go and get changed.”The Slytherins continued to chant as they trailed back into the changing rooms. "Cant they shut the hell up?" Asked Hazel bitterly to Ron.   
“How was practice?”asked Hermione rather coolly half an hour later, as Harry, Hazel, and Ron climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. “It was —”Harry began. “Completely lousy,”said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt. “Well, it was only your first one,”she said consolingly, “it’s bound to take time to —”  
“Who said it was me who made it lousy?”snapped Ron. “No one,”said Hermione, looking taken aback, “I thought —”  
“You thought I was bound to be rubbish?”  
“No, of course I didn’t! Look, you said it was lousy so I just —”  
"Oh shut up." Cried Hazel, exasperated.   
“I’m going to get started on some homework,” said Ron angrily and stomped off to the staircase to the boys’ dormitories and vanished from sight. Hermione turned to Harry and Hazel. “Was he lousy?”  
"Well-." Began Hazel.  
“No,”said Harry loyally. Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Well, I suppose he could’ve played better,”Harry muttered, “but it was only the first training session, like you said . . .

Hazel, Ron, and Harry spent most of Sunday in the common room. Hazel was helping them with homework.   
“You know, we probably should try and get more homework done during the week,” Harry muttered to Ron, as they finally laid aside Professor McGonagall’s long essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus spell and turned miserably to Professor Sinistra’s equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter’s moons. “Yeah,”said Ron, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing his fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside them. “Listen . . . shall we just ask Hermione if we can have a look at what she’s done?” Harry glanced over at her; she was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap and chatting merrily to Ginny as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks. “No,” he said heavily, “you know she won’t let us.”   
"Hazel-?" Asked Ron. "No!" Cried Hazel, exasperated. "I've offered to help you, but I am not i repeat not going to let you cheat." Said Hazel sternly. And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker; slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half-past eleven, Hermione wandered over to them, yawning. “Nearly done?”  
“No,”said Ron shortly. “Jupiter’s biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto,”she said, pointing over Ron’s shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, “and it’s Io that’s got the volcanos.”  
“Thanks,”snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences. “Sorry, I only —”  
"Guys please dont fight." Moaned Hazel.  
“Yeah, well, if you’ve just come over here to criticize —”  
“Ron —”  
"Guys. Come on!" Insisted Hazel.  
“I haven’t got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I’m up to my neck in it here —”  
“No —look!”Hermione was pointing to the nearest window. Harry, Hazel, and Ron all looked over. A handsome screech owl was standing on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Ron. “Isn’t that Hermes?”said Hermione, sounding amazed. “Blimey, it is!”said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. “What’s Percy writing to me for?” He crossed to the window and opened it; Hermes flew inside, landed upon Ron’s essay, and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Ron took it off and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across Ron’s drawing of the moon Io. “That’s definitely Percy’s handwriting,”said Ron, sinking back into his chair and staring at the words on the outside of the scroll: To Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts. He looked up at the other three. “What d’you reckon?”  
“Open it!”said Hermione And Hazel eagerly. Harry nodded. Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. The farther down the parchment his eyes traveled, the more pronounced became his scowl. When he had finished reading, he looked disgusted. He thrust the letter at Harry, Hazel, and Hermione, who leaned toward each other to read it together: Dear Ron, I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect. I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the “Fred and George”route, rather than following in my footsteps, ("What's wrong with Fred and George?" Asked Hazel, slightly offended) so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility. But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions. From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternization with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this —no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore’s favorite —but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different —and probably more accurate —view of Potter’s behavior. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing —and see if you can spot yours truly! Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality if you ask me and many of the people I’ve spoken to remain convinced of his guilt. It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter —I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent —but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter’s behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a really delightful woman, who I know will be only too happy to advise you. This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore’s regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that so far Professor Umbridge is encountering very little cooperation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week —again, see the Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this —a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years! I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticize our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore (if you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore’s, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders). I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people —the Minister really could not be more gracious to me —and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents’ beliefs and actions either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes. Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect. Your brother, Percy.  
Harry and Hazel looked up at Ron. “Well,” he said, trying to sound as though he found the whole thing a joke, “if you want to —er —what is it?”(He checked Percy’s letter.) “Oh yeah —‘sever ties’ with me, I swear I won’t get violent.”  
“Give it back,”said Ron, holding out his hand. “He is —” Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy’s letter in half, “the world’s”—he tore it into quarters —“biggest”—he tore it into eighths —“git.”He threw the pieces into the fire. Hazel still hadn't said anything, she was now glaring at the fire, watching the letter burn. "I can't believe him." Said Hazel. "H-he's mental..."  
Harry looked over at Hazel. "It's ok." Said Harry. Hazel looked up at him. "Oh! I know what he is saying is wrong about you. And your not acting like it offending you. But it really bothers me how much control the ministry has over how he thinks... to the point he's betraying his family." Said Hazel, she felt sincerely sick. Ron gaped at Hazel for a moment.  
“Come on, we’ve got to get this finished some time before dawn,” he said briskly to Harry, pulling Professor Sinistra’s essay back toward him. Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face. “Oh, give them here,”she said abruptly. “What?”said Ron. “Give them to me, I’ll look through them and correct them,”she said. “Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you’re a lifesaver,”said Ron, “what can I —?”  
“What you can say is, ‘We promise we’ll never leave our homework this late again,’”she said, holding out both hands for their essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same. “Thanks a million, Hermione,”said Harry weakly, passing over his essay and sinking back into his armchair, rubbing his eyes. It was now past midnight and the common room was deserted but for the three of them and Crookshanks. The only sound was that of Hermione’s quill scratching out sentences here and there on their essays and the ruffle of pages as she checked various facts in the reference books strewn across the table.   
“Okay, write that down,”Hermione said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, “and then copy out this conclusion that I’ve written for you.”  
“Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I’ve ever met,” said Ron weakly, “and if I’m ever rude to you again —”  
“—I’ll know you’re back to normal,”said Hermione. “Harry, yours is okay except for this bit at the end, I think you must have misheard Professor Sinistra, Europa’s covered in ice, not mice —Harry?”Harry had slid off his chair onto his knees and was now crouching on the singed and threadbare hearthrug, gazing into the flames.  
"Harry are you all right?" Asked Hazel, getting to her knees beside him. “Er —Harry?”said Ron uncertainly. “Why are you down there?”  
“Because I’ve just seen Sirius’s head in the fire,”said Harry. He spoke quite calmly. "Really?" Asked Hazel. Harry nodes furiously. “Sirius’s head?” Hermione repeated. “You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn’t do that now, it would be too —Sirius!” ,She gasped, gazing at the fire; Ron dropped his quill and stared into the flames. There in the middle of the dancing flames sat Sirius’s head, long dark hair falling around his grinning face. “I was starting to think you’d go to bed before everyone else had disappeared,”he said. “I’ve been checking every hour.”  
“You’ve been popping into the fire every hour?”Harry said, half laughing. “Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear yet.”  
“But what if you’d been seen?”said Hermione anxiously. “Well, I think a girl —first year by the look of her —might’ve got a glimpse of me earlier, but don’t worry,”Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. “I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I’ll bet she just thought I was an oddly shaped log or something.”  
“But Sirius, this is taking an awful risk —”Hermione began. “You sound like Molly,”said Sirius. "Maybe she should sound like Molly! What the hell would happen if someone saw notorious mass murder, Sirius Black, while playing chess?" Cried Hazel. "I didn't murder anyone, Hazel." Said Sirius. "I know that! But does that girl know!?" Asked Hazel, angrily. “This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code —and codes are breakable.”At the mention of Harry’s letter, Hermione and Ron had both turned to stare at him. “You didn’t say you’d written to Sirius!”said Hermione accusingly. “I forgot,”said Harry. “Don’t look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?”  
“No, it was very good,”said Sirius, smiling. “Anyway, we’d better be quick, just in case we’re disturbed —your scar.”  
“What about —?”Ron began, but Hermione said quickly, “We’ll tell you afterward, go on, Sirius.”“Well, I know it can’t be fun when it hurts, but we don’t think it’s anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn’t it?”  
“Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,”said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione’s winces. “So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.”“Well, now he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,”said Sirius. “So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?”Harry asked. “I doubt it,”said Sirius. “I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater —”  
“She’s foul enough to be one,”said Harry darkly and Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement. "Evil, Harry. Its pronounced evil." Said Hazel. “Yes, but the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters,”said Sirius with a wry smile. “I know she’s a nasty piece of work, though —you should hear Remus talk about her.”“Does Lupin know her?”asked Harry quickly. “No,”said Sirius, “but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job.”  
“What’s she got against werewolves?”said Hermione angrily. “Scared of them, I expect,”said Sirius, smiling at her indignation. "That is no reason to persecute them!" Said Hazel. “I full heartedly agree. But Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose —”Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset. “Sirius!”she said reproachfully. “Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher I’m sure he’d respond, after all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said —”  
“So what are Umbridge’s lessons like?”Sirius interrupted. “Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?”  
“No,”said Harry, ignoring Hermione’s affronted look at being cut off in her defense of Kreacher. “She’s not letting us use magic at all!”  
"Its outrageous!" Cried Hazel.  
“All we do is read the stupid textbook,”said Ron. “Ah, well, that figures,”said Sirius. “Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn’t want you trained in combat.”  
“Trained in combat?”repeated Harry incredulously. “What does he think we’re doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?”  
“That’s exactly what he thinks you’re doing,”said Sirius, “or rather, that’s exactly what he’s afraid Dumbledore’s doing —forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.” There was a pause at this, then Ron said, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with.”  
Hazel stared at Ron so intensely he back up a bit. “So we’re being prevented from learning Defense Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we’ll use spells against the Ministry?”said Hermione, looking furious. “Yep,”said Sirius. “Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He’s getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It’s a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge.”   
"You know, this thought just accrued to me, I dont think Fudge is fit to me minister." Said Hazel, sarcastically. Ron let out a shrill laugh. “D’you know if there’s going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow? Only Ron’s brother Percy reckons there will be —”  
“I don’t know,”said Sirius, “I haven’t seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they’re all busy. It’s just been Kreacher and me here . . .” There was a definite note of bitterness in Sirius’s voice. “So you haven’t had any news about Hagrid, either?”“Ah . . .”said Sirius, “well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one’s sure what’s happened to him.”   
"What?" Asked Hazel, her eyes wide.  
Then, seeing their stricken faces, he added quickly, “But Dumbledore’s not worried, so don’t you three get yourselves in a state; I’m sure Hagrid’s fine.”  
“But if he was supposed to be back by now . . .”said Hermione in a small, worried voice. “Madame Maxime was with him, we’ve been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home —but there’s nothing to suggest he’s hurt or —well, nothing to suggest he’s not perfectly okay.” Unconvinced, Harry, Ron, Hazel, and Hermione exchanged worried looks. “Listen, don’t go asking too many questions about Hagrid,”said Sirius hastily, “it’ll just draw even more attention to the fact that he’s not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn’t want that. Hagrid’s tough, he’ll be okay.”And when they did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, “When’s your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn’t we? I thought I could —”  
“NO!”said Harry, Hazel, and Hermione together, very loudly. “Sirius, didn’t you see the Daily Prophet?”said Hermione anxiously. “Oh that,”said Sirius, grinning, “they’re always guessing where I am, they haven’t really got a clue —”  
“Yeah, but we think this time they have,”said Harry. “Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius —you know, Lucius Malfoy —so don’t come up here, whatever you do, if Malfoy recognizes you again —”  
“All right, all right, I’ve got the point,”said Sirius. He looked most displeased. “Just an idea, thought you might like to get together —”  
“I would, I just don’t want you chucked back in Azkaban!” said Harry.   
“You’re less like your father than I thought,” he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. “The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.”  
“Look —”  
“Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,”said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. “I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?” There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius’s head had been was flickering flame once more. "That was rude!" Said Hazel indignantly.

 

They had expected to have to comb Hermione’s Daily Prophet carefully next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline: MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER “HIGH INQUISITOR”  
“‘High Inquisitor’?”said Harry darkly, his half-eaten bit of toast slipping from his fingers. "Oh no." Moaned Hazel, putting down her glass of orange juice. “What does that mean?”Hermione read aloud: “In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “‘The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,’said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. ‘He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve.’“This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to effect improvements at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th Educational Decree Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. “‘That’s how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,’said Weasley last night. ‘Dumbledore couldn’t find anyone, so the Minister put in Umbridge and of course, she’s been an immediate success —’”  
“She’s been a WHAT?”said Harry loudly. Hazel began to laugh darkly. "Nonine can actually believe this!" Cried Hazel.  
“Wait, there’s more,”said Hermione grimly. “‘—an immediate success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what’s really happening at Hogwarts.’“It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the passing of Educational Decree Twenty-three, which creates the new position of ‘Hogwarts High Inquisitor.’“‘This is an exciting new phase in the Minister’s plan to get to grips with what some are calling the “falling standards”at Hogwarts,’said Weasley. ‘The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, and we are delighted to say that she has accepted.’“The Ministry’s new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts. “‘I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,’said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. ‘Many of us with our children’s best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore’s eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.’“Among those ‘eccentric decisions’are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, and delusional ex-Auror ‘Mad-Eye’Moody. “Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts. “‘I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step toward ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose confidence,’said a Ministry insider last night. “Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts. “‘Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge’s office,’said Madam Marchbanks. ‘This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.’(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks’alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page 17.)”Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two. “So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this ‘Educational Decree’ and forced her on us! And now he’s given her the power to inspect other teachers!”Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. “I can’t believe this. It’s outrageous . . . ”  
“I know it is,”said Harry. "It's absolutely- I mean it's totally- Well it's- ...I don't know what it us, but I absolutely hate it!" Exclaimed Hazel. But a grin was unfurling on Ron’s face. “What?”said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him. “Oh, I can’t wait to see McGonagall inspected,”said Ron happily. “Umbridge won’t know what’s hit her.”  
Hazel smiled at the thought of Umbridge saying "Hem, Hem" and Mcgonagall completely ignoring her, to the point Umbridge is blue in the face. “Well, come on,”said Hermione, jumping up, “we’d better get going, if she’s inspecting Binns’s class we don’t want to be late . . .”But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape’s dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Hazel’s moonstone essay was handed back to her with a large, spiky black A, just Acceptable, scrawled in an upper corner. “I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L.,”said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. “This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in your examination.”Snape reached the front of the class and turned to face them. “The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get D’s.”He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, “Some people got D’s? Ha!”Hazel realized that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade she had received; Hazel showed her the "A". She gave her a sympathetic smile and a thumbs up. Hazel read every line of the instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. Hazel's Strengthening Solution was precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione’s.   
“Well, that wasn’t as bad as last week, was it?”said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the entrance hall toward lunch. “And the homework didn’t go too badly either, did it?”When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on. "Well I got an A. But i have the feeling that if I was a Slytherin it might have been a higher grade." Mumbled Hazel, re-reading her essay.  
“I mean, all right, I didn’t expect the top grade, not if he’s marking to O.W.L. standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn’t you say?” Harry made a noncommittal noise in his throat. “Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we’ve got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we’re getting now are a sort of baseline, aren’t they? Something we can build on . . .”They sat down together at the Gryffindor table. “Obviously, I’d have been thrilled if I’d gotten an O —”  
“Hermione,”said Ron sharply, “if you want to know what grades we got, ask.”  
“I don’t —I didn’t mean —well, if you want to tell me —”  
“I got a P,”said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. “Happy?”  
“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,”said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Hazel’s right. “Nothing wrong with a good healthy P.”  
“But,”said Hermione, “doesn’t P stand for . . .”“‘Poor,’ yeah,”said Lee Jordan. “Still, better than D, isn’t it? ‘Dreadful’?”   
“So top grade’s O for ‘Outstanding,’”she was saying, “and then there’s A —”  
“No, E,”George corrected her, “E for ‘Exceeds Expectations.’And I’ve always thought Fred and I should’ve got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.”They all laughed except Hermione, who plowed on, “So after E, it’s A for ‘Acceptable,’and that’s the last pass grade, isn’t it?”  
“Yep,”said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth, and swallowing it whole. “Then you get P for ‘Poor’”—Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration —“and D for ‘Dreadful.’”  
“And then T,”George reminded him. “T?”asked Hermione, looking appalled. “Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?”“‘Troll,’”said George and Hazel promptly. Harry laughed.   
“You lot had an inspected lesson yet?”Fred asked them. “No,”said Hermione at once, “have you?” asked Hazel.  
“Just now, before lunch,”said George. “Charms.”  
“What was it like?”Harry and Hermione asked together. Fred shrugged. “Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick’s like, he treated her like a guest, didn’t seem to bother him at all. She didn’t say much. Asked a girl in our year, Alicia Spinnet, a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it.”  
“I can’t see old Flitwick getting marked down,”said George, “he usually gets everyone through their exams all right.”  
“Who’ve you got this afternoon?”Fred asked Harry. “Trelawney —”  
“A T if ever I saw one —”  
“—and Umbridge herself.”  
“Well, be a good boy and girl and keep your temper with Umbridge today,” said George. “Angelina’ll do her nut if you two miss any more Quidditch practices.” Hazel crossed her heart. Then she rolled her eyes.  
Hazel was pulling out her dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Ron elbowed her in the ribs and, looking round, she saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. Hazel narrowed her eyes and glared at her, the cut on her hand stood out as she clenched her fist. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out Dream Oracles, look round. “Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney,”said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. “You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?” Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney’s seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag, and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin. Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses. “We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today,”she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. “Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other’s latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle.”She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left toward Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati’s most recent dream. Harry opened his copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly. She was making notes on her clipboard now. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney’s wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. "I'm just going to sit with you guys. I'm pretty sure everyone else has got a partner." Said Hazel, with out even checking to see it there was room for her some there else. Hazel and Harry bent their heads hurriedly over their books. “Think of a dream, quick,”he told Ron, “in case the old toad comes our way.”  
“I did it last time,”Ron protested, “it’s your turn, you tell me one.”  
“Oh, I dunno . . .”said Harry desperately, who could not remember dreaming anything at all over the last few days. “Let’s say I dreamed I was . . . drowning Snape in my cauldron. Yeah, that’ll do . . .” Ron chortled as he opened his Dream Oracle. “Okay, we’ve got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject . . . would that be ‘drowning’ or ‘cauldron’ or ‘Snape’?”  
“It doesn’t matter, pick any of them,”said Harry, chancing a glance behind him. Professor Umbridge was now standing at Professor Trelawney’s shoulder making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Neville about his dream diary. “What night did you dream this again?”Ron said, immersed in calculations. “I dunno, last night, whenever you like,”Harry told him. Hazel was flipping through her book, trying to make sense if Harry's fake dream. Umbridge and Trelawney were only a table away from them now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out. “Now,”said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, “you’ve been in this post how long, exactly?”Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, “Nearly sixteen years.”“Quite a period,”said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. “So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?”“That’s right,”said Professor Trelawney shortly. Professor Umbridge made another note. “And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?”  
“Yes,”said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher. Another note on the clipboard. “But I think —correct me if I am mistaken —that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of second sight?”  
“These things often skip —er —three generations,”said Professor Trelawney. Professor Umbridge’s toadlike smile widened. “Of course,”she said sweetly, making yet another note. “Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?”She looked up inquiringly, still smiling. Professor Trelawney had stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. “I don’t understand you,”said Professor Trelawney, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck. “I’d like you to make a prediction for me,”said Professor Umbridge very clearly. Harry, Hazel, and Ron were not the only people watching and listening sneakily from behind their books now; most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking. “The Inner Eye does not See upon command!”she said in scandalized tones. “I see,”said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard. “I —but —but . . . wait!” said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. “I . . . I think I do see something . . . something that concerns you. . . . Why, I sense something . . . something dark . . . some grave peril . . .”Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised. “I am afraid . . . I am afraid that you are in grave danger!”Professor Trelawney finished dramatically. There was a pause. Professor Umbridge’s eyebrows were still raised. “Right,”she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. “Well, if that’s really the best you can do . . .”She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Hazel caught Harry’s eye and knew that Harry was thinking exactly the same as she was: They both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney’s side —until she swooped down on them a few seconds later, that was. “Well?”she said, snapping her long fingers under Harry’s nose, uncharacteristically brisk. “Let me see the start you’ve made on your dream diary, please.” And by the time she had interpreted Harry’s dreams at the top of her voice (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death), Hazel was feeling much less sympathetic toward her. All the while, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first so that she was waiting for them all when they reached their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later. She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Harry, Hazel, and Ron told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell. “Wands away,”she instructed them all smilingly, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out sadly returned them to their bags. “As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, ‘Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.’ There will be no need to talk.”Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Hazel began to read with out taking anything in, just staring blankly at the page, her eyes scanning the words but not reading them. She had already read the whole book.   
She noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again. Professor Umbridge had noticed too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face-to-face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, “What is it this time, Miss Granger?”  
“I’ve already read chapter two,”said Hermione. “Well then, proceed to chapter three.”  
“I’ve read that too. I’ve read the whole book.”Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly. “Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen.”  
“He says that counterjinxes are improperly named,”said Hermione promptly. “He says ‘counterjinx’ is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable.” Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows, and Hazel knew she was impressed against her will. “But I disagree,”Hermione continued. "I actually disagree too, seeing that I've read the book, I think I can have an opinion on it. Am I right, professor?" Asked Hazel. Professor Umbridge’s eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.  
“You disagree?”  
“Yes, I do,”said Hazel, and Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, were not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the rest of the class’s attention. “Mr. Slinkhard doesn’t like jinxes, does he?" Asked Hazel.  
But I think they can be very useful when they’re used defensively.” stated Hermione.  
“Oh, you do, do you?”said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. “Well, I’m afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard’s opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger and Hatter.”  
"We are the voice of the people. The school, if you will. This great wizarding economy's future. How do our opinions not matter?" Asked Hazel, keeping her voice steady and respectful.  
"You. Are. Children." Said Umbridge clearly.  
“But —”Hermione began. “That is enough,”said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House.”There was an outbreak of muttering at this. “What for?”said Harry angrily. “Don’t you get involved!”Hermione whispered urgently to him. “For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,”said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "How do you mean pointless, ma'am?" Asked Hazel, quickly confidently.  
Umbridge ignored her. “I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them —with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects —would have passed a Ministry inspection —”  
“Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher,”said Harry loudly, “there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.”  
"Yeah! I'm sure he would have come back for another year. If Harry hadn't defeated him because he was practically Voldemort!" Said Hazel, quite loudly. These pronouncements were followed by one of the loudest silences Hazel had ever heard. Then —“I think another week’s detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter and Miss Hatter,”said Umbridge sleekly. The cut on the back of Hazel’s hand had barely healed, and yet she trotted off to Umbridge office right after her lessons, with Harry. They took their seats at the small table, they began to write. Hazel hand was cut back open, and she began to bleed. By the time their detention was over her hand was raw, and her parchment was covered in droplets of blood.   
The very worst part of this second week’s worth of detentions was, just as George had predicted, Angelina’s reaction. She cornered Hazel and Harry just as they arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and Hazel shouted at Angelina, who shouted right back, so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the three of them from the staff table. “Miss Johnson, Miss Hatter, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!”“But Professor —They've gone and landed themselves in detention again —”  
“What’s this?”said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Hazel and Harry. “Detention? From whom?”  
“From Professor Umbridge,”muttered Harry, neither of them meeting Professor McGonagall’s beady, square-framed eyes. “Are you telling me,”she said, lowering her voice so that the group of curious Ravenclaws behind them could not hear, “that after the warning I gave you last Monday you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge’s class again?”“Yes,”Harry and Hazel muttered, speaking to the floor. “Hatter ,Potter, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!”“But —what? Professor, no!” Harry said, furious at this injustice. “We're already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?”  
“Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. “No, not another word of complaint, from either of you! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!”She strode back toward the staff table. Angelina gave Harry and Hazel a look of deepest disgust and stalked away, upon which Harry flung himself onto the bench beside Ron, and Hazel sat down, fuming. “She’s taken points off Gryffindor because I’m having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?”  
“I know, mate,”said Ron sympathetically, tipping bacon onto Harry’s plate, “she’s bang out of order.”  
Hermione, however, merely rustled the pages of her Daily Prophet and said nothing. “You think McGonagall was right, do you?”said Harry angrily to the picture of Cornelius Fudge obscuring Hermione’s face. "Harry, shut up. She hasn't said anything." Said Hazel, bitterly. "So you think she's right too?" Asked Harry. "For heaven's sake Harry! I was just deduced points too! To hell she's right!" Replied Haze, angrily.  
“I wish she hadn’t taken points from you, but I think she’s right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge,”said Hermione’s voice, while Fudge gesticulated forcefully from the front page, clearly giving some kind of speech. Harry did not speak to Hazel or Hermione all through Charms.  
But as they entered Transfiguration, Professor Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner, Harry exchanged a look with Hazel that showed her he'd forgotten their row at breakfast.  
“Excellent,”whispered Ron, as they sat down in their usual seats. “Let’s see Umbridge get what she deserves.”Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there. “That will do,”she said and silence fell immediately. “Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework —Miss Brown, please take this box of mice —don’t be silly, girl, they won’t hurt you —and hand one to each student —”  
“Hem, hem,”said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Hazel’s essay; Hazel took it and stared at him, intensely as he passed, then she check her paper, she had gotten an O.  
Lavender practically threw Hazel's mouse at her, it flopped on the desk, gingerly. Hazel picked it up carefully, checking to make sure it was alright. "That idiot." Mumbled Hazel, stoking her mouse.  
“Right then, everyone, listen closely —Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention —most of you have now successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be —”  
“Hem, hem,”said Professor Umbridge. “Yes?”said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line. “I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec —”  
“Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom,”said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee, and Hazel barely refrained from laughing. “As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell —”  
“Hem, hem.”  
“I wonder,”said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, “how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.” Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously. Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more. “As I was saying, the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So —you know the incantation, let me see what you can do . . .”  
“How she can lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!” Harry said to Ron under his voice, but he was grinning. "Honestly, Mcgonagall is wonderful." Said Hazel in awe. Harry and Ron nodded.  
Hazel managed to vanish her mouse on her second try, and them began to watched Umbridge. She didn't talk, or interrupt, or even barely look up. She did, however, take many more notes while she sat in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, rose with a grim expression on her face. “Well, it’s a start,”said Ron, holding up a long, wriggling mouse tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around. "Did you splinch your mouse?" Asked Hazel. "What?" Asked Harry. "Never mind." Said Hazel, setting her fully intact mouse back in the box, carefully.  
As they filed out of the classroom, Hazel saw Professor Umbridge approach the teacher’s desk; she nudged Harry, who nudged Ron, who nudged Hermione in turn, and the four of them deliberately fell back to eavesdrop. “How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?”Professor Umbridge asked. “Thirty-nine years this December,”said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut. Professor Umbridge made a note. “Very well,”she said, “you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days’time.”  
“I can hardly wait,”said Professor McGonagall in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off toward the door. “Hurry up, you four,”she added, sweeping Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione before her. Hazel could not help giving her a faint smile and could have sworn he received one in return. Hazel had thought that the next time she would see Umbridge would be in her detention that evening, but she was wrong. When they walked down the lawns toward the forest for Care of Magical Creatures, they found her and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank. “You do not usually take this class, is that correct?”Harry heard her ask as they arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive bowtruckles were scrabbling around for wood lice like so many living twigs. “Quite correct,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid.”Hazel exchanged uneasy looks with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Malfoy was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle; he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry. “Hmm,”said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Hazel could still hear her quite clearly, “I wonder —the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter —can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid’s very extended leave of absence?” Harry saw Malfoy look up eagerly. “’Fraid I can’t,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. “Don’t know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks teaching work, accepted —that’s as much as I know. Well . . . shall I get started then?”  
“Yes, please do,”said Professor Umbridge, scribbling upon her clipboard. Umbridge took a different tack in this class and wandered among the students, questioning them on magical creatures. Most people were able to answer well and Hazel’s spirits lifted somewhat; at least the class was not letting Hagrid down. “Overall,”said Professor Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank’s side after a lengthy interrogation of Dean Thomas, “how do you, as a temporary member of staff —an objective outsider, I suppose you might say —how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?”  
“Oh, yes, Dumbledore’s excellent,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. “No, I’m very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed.”Looking politely incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and went on, “And what are you planning to cover with this class this year —assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?”  
“Oh, I’ll take them through the creatures that most often come up in O.W.L.,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Not much left to do —they’ve studied unicorns and nifflers, I thought we’d cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, you know . . .”  
“Well, you seem to know what you’re doing, at any rate,”said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. Hazel did not like the emphasis she put on “you”and liked it even less when she put her next question to Goyle: “Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?”  
Hazel stepped forward, Hermione grabbed her sleeve, drawing her back.  
Goyle gave a stupid grin. Malfoy hastened to answer the question. “That was me,”he said. “I was slashed by a hippogriff.”  
"You little-!" Exclaimed Hazel, but Hermione clapped her hand over Hazel's mouth.  
“A hippogriff?”said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically. “Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do,”said Harry angrily. Both Ron and Hermione groaned. Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry’s direction. “Another night’s detention, I think,” she said softly. “Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that’s all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days.”  
“Jolly good,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.  
As Hazel, Ron, Hermione, and Harry set back off toward the castle Hermione grabbed Hazel's sleeve. "What?" Asked Hazel. "I had this idea. Just a moment ago, when Umbridge was leaving. I was thinking about how she really isn't making the school better, and how she wasn't actually teaching. Then I got to thinking; what if we found someone to teach us? Someone who wouldn't be under the watchful eye of the ministry?" Asked Hermione. Hazel was watching Harry and Ron leave, and then she turned to Hermione. "That would be great... But who?" Asked Hazel. "Harry." Said Hermione, beaming. Hazel thought for a moment, "Would he just be teaching us?" Asked Hazel. "No. He could teach others too. Like people from other houses and years. Just a few." Said Hermione. Now it was Hazel's turning smile. "That's a brilliant idea!" Said Hazel. "I'll recruit people, if you do most of the talking. I'm no good in crowds." Said Hermione.  
"You've got a deal... But when do we tell Harry?" Asked Hazel. "Tonight."  
It was nearly midnight when Harry and Hazel left Umbridge’s office that night. Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for them. Hazel was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical. “Here,”she said anxiously, pushing two small bowls of yellow liquid toward them, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.”they placed their bleeding, aching hands into the bowl. Hazel suddenly experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around Harry's legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into his lap and settled down. “Thanks,”he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks’s ears with his left hand. “I still reckon you should complain about this,”said Ron in a low voice. “No,”said Harry flatly. “McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —”  
“Yeah, she probably would,”said Harry. “And how long d’you reckon it’d take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?” Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way. “She’s an awful woman,”said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.”  
“I suggested poison,”said Ron grimly.   
"Perfect." Said Hazel.  
“No . . . I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any defense from her at all,”said Hermione.   
"Hermione's right." Said Hazel.  
“Well, what can we do about that?”said Ron, yawning. “’S too late, isn’t it? She got the job, she’s here to stay, Fudge’ll make sure of that.”  
“Well,”said Hermione tentatively. “You know, Hazel and I were thinking today . . .”  
"Really it was Hermione. Her being bloody brilliant and all." Added Hazel.  
She shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, “I was thinking that —maybe the time’s come when we should just —just do it ourselves.”  
“Do what ourselves?”said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of murtlap tentacles. “Well —learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves,”said Hermione. “Come off it,”groaned Ron. “You want us to do extra work? D’you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it’s only the second week?”  
“But this is much more important than homework!”said Hermione. Harry and Ron goggled at her. “I didn’t think there was anything in the universe more important than homework,”said Ron. “Don’t be silly, of course there is!”said Hermione. “It’s about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge’s first lesson, for what’s waiting out there. It’s about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don’t learn anything for a whole year —”  
“We can’t do much by ourselves,”said Ron in a defeated voice. “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —”  
“No, I agree, we’ve gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books.”said Hermione.   
“We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.” said Hazelm  
“If you’re talking about Lupin . . .” Harry began. “No, no, we're not talking about Lupin,”said Hermione. “He’s too busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that’s not nearly often enough.”  
“Who, then?”said Harry, frowning at her. Hermione heaved a very deep sigh. “Isn’t it obvious?”she said.   
“We're talking about you, Harry.” said Hermione.  
There was a moment’s silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron and the fire guttered. “About me what?”said Harry. “I’m talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes like S.P.E.W. However, Ron did not look exasperated. He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, “That’s an idea.”  
“What’s an idea?”said Harry. “You,”said Ron. “Teaching us to do it.”  
“But . . .”Harry was grinning now. “But I’m not a teacher, I can’t —”  
“Harry, you’re the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts,”said Hermione. “Me?”said Harry, now grinning more broadly than ever. “No I’m not, you and Hazel beaten me in every test —”  
“Actually, we haven’t,”said Hermione coolly. “You beat me-."   
"And me!" Exclaimed Hazel.  
"In our third year —the only year we all sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I’m not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you’ve done!”  
“How d’you mean?”  
“You know what, I’m not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me,” Ron said to Hermione, smirking slightly. He turned to Harry. “Let’s think,” he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. “Uh . . . first year —you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who.”  
“But that was luck,”said Harry, “that wasn’t skill —”  
“Second year,” Hazel interrupted, “you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle.”  
“Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn’t turned up I —”  
“Third year,” said Ron, louder still, “you fought off about a hundred dementors at once —”  
“You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn’t —”  
“Last year,” Hazel said, almost shouting now, “you fought off You-Know-Who again —”  
“Listen to me!”said Harry, almost angrily, because Ron, Hazel, and Hermione were all smirking now. “Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck —I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, I didn’t plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —”   
"Exactly you did what ever you could think of! You are a bloody natural!" Said Hazel. Ron and Hermione were still smirking..  
“Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?”he said heatedly. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because —because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right —but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing —STOP LAUGHING!”The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn’t remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa; Ron and Hermione’s smiles had vanished. “You don’t know what it’s like! You —none of you —you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own —your own brain or guts or whatever —like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die —they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that —and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up —you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me —”  
“We weren’t saying anything like that, mate,”said Ron, looking aghast. “We weren’t having a go at Diggory, we didn’t —you’ve got the wrong end of the —”  
He looked helplessly at Hazel, whose face was stricken. “Harry,” Hermione said timidly, “don’t you see? This . . . this is exactly why we need you. . . . We need to know what it’s r-really like . . . facing him . . . facing V-Voldemort.”It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort’s Harry. Still breathing hard, he sank back into his chair. “Well . . . think about it,”said Hermione quietly. “Please?”Harry could not think of anything to say.   
He nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to. Hermione stood up. “Well, I’m off to bed,”she said in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. “Erm . . . ’night.”Ron had gotten to his feet too. “Coming?”he said awkwardly to Harry. “Yeah,”said Harry. “In . . . in a minute. I’ll just clear this up.”He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded and left. “Reparo,”Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the murtlap essence to the bowl.  
"Harry...I really think it would be good if you taught us." Said Hazel, slowly. Harry didn't answer. "I'm going to go to bed." Said Harry, standing up. Hazel stood up quickly, dropping the bowl to the floor, not caring, she reached for Harry's hand. "Ow!" He yelped. Jerking his hand away, she had grabbed his right hand. "I'm sorry." Said Hazel. "Hazel. Listen, everything I did... it was pure luck. And it came off the top of my head." Said Harry. "That's the problem Harry! You just think it was dumb luck, or chance. But it wasn't! It was you! It was all you! You are a natural! Everything you've done has been you. You are quick, smart, talented, and reckless! For God's sake Harry, am I the only one who can see it?" Said Hazel. Harry just stared at her. "You are absolutely crazy, Harry Potter. And that's what makes you brilliant."   
"I just... I don't... I'll think about it, Haze." Said Harry, slowly. Hazel smiled at him, then they walked up to their dormitories. 

 

“I was wondering,”Hermione said suddenly, “whether you’d thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry.”  
“’Course I have,”said Harry grumpily. “Can’t forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us —”  
“I meant the idea Hazel, Ron and I had”—Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look; she frowned at him —“oh, all right, the idea Hazel and I had, then —about you teaching us.”Harry did not answer at once.   
“Well,”he said slowly, “yeah, I —I’ve thought about it a bit.”  
“And?”said Hermione And Hazel eagerly. “I dunno,”said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at Ron. “I thought it was a good idea from the start,”said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure that Harry was not going to start shouting again. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn’t you?”  
"Yes Harry. But all the same, there’s no point pretending that you’re not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You are brilliant." Said Hazel.  
Hermione began to talk, "You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can’t, Viktor always said —”  
Ron looked around at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck; rubbing it, he said, “Yeah? What did Vicky say?”  
“Ho ho,”said Hermione in a bored voice. “He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn’t, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang.”Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously. “You’re not still in contact with him, are you?”  
“So what if I am?”said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. “I can have a pen pal if I —”  
“He didn’t only want to be your pen pal,”said Ron accusingly. "Shut up, Ronald." Said Hazel.  
Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, “Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?”  
“Just you, Hazel, and Ron, yeah?”  
“Well,”said Hermione, now looking a mite anxious again. “Well . . . now, don’t fly off the handle again, Harry, please. . . . But I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we’re talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort —oh, don’t be pathetic, Ron —it doesn’t seem fair if we don’t offer the chance to other people.”Harry considered this for a moment, then said, “Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you three would want to be taught by me. I’m a nutter, remember?”  
“Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you’ve got to say,”said Hermione seriously. “Look,” she leaned toward him; Hazel leaned close too, she felt a bit uncomfortable sitting, her face this close to Harry, Ron, who was still watching Hermione with a frown on his face, leaned forward to listen too, “you know the first weekend in October’s a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who’s interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?”  
“Why do we have to do it outside school?”said Ron. “Because,”said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, “I don’t think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.”

“Well, you can’t blame him for wanting to get out and about,”said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears, about Sirius throwing caution to the wind and showing up at Hogsmead anyway, with him, Hazel, and Hermione. “I mean, he’s been on the run for over two years, hasn’t he, and I know that can’t have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn’t he? And now he’s just shut up all the time with that lunatic elf.”Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.   
"I don't think it would even be remotely smart if he tried to come out. And I think it's a bigger risk than he thinks." Said Hazel, bitterly.   
“The trouble is,”she said to Harry, “until V-Voldemort —oh for heaven’s sake, Ron —comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn’t he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn’t going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore’s been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again it’ll be obvious Sirius isn’t one . . . I mean, he hasn’t got the Mark, for one thing.”  
“I don’t reckon he’d be stupid enough to turn up,”said Ron bracingly. “Dumbledore’d go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn’t like what he hears.” When Harry continued to look worried, Hermione said, “Listen, Ron, Hazel, and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We’ve told them to meet us in Hogsmeade.”  
“Right,”said Harry vaguely, his mind still on Sirius. “Don’t worry, Harry,”Hermione said quietly. “You’ve got enough on your plate without Sirius too.”She was quite right, of course.  
The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. After breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. When Harry and Hazel reached Filch, the caretaker gave a great sniff as though trying to detect a whiff of something from them. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and Harry and Hazel walked on, out onto the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day. “Er —why was Filch sniffing you?”asked Ron, as he, Hazel, Harry, and Hermione set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates. “I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs,” said Harry with a small laugh. “I forgot to tell you . . .”And he recounted the story of sending his letter to Sirius and Filch bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. To his slight surprise, Hermione found this story highly interesting, much more, indeed, than Hazel did herself, which wasn't a surprise, because Hazel quite hated the scenario, seeing as Cho was there. “He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who had tipped him off?”  
“I dunno,”said Harry, shrugging. “Maybe Malfoy, he’d think it was a laugh.” They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left onto the road into the village, the wind whipping their hair into their eyes. “Malfoy?”said Hermione, very skeptically. “Well . . . yes . . . maybe . . .”  
And she remained deep in thought all the way into the outskirts of Hogsmeade. “Where are we going anyway?”Harry asked. “The Three Broomsticks?”  
“Oh —no,”said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, “no, it’s always packed and really noisy. I’ve told the others to meet us in the Hog’s Head, that other pub, you know the one, it’s not on the main road. I think it’s a bit . . . you know . . . dodgy . . . but students don’t normally go in there, so I don’t think we’ll be overheard.”They walked down the main street past Zonko’s Joke Shop, where they were unsurprised to see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture upon it of a wild boar’s severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All four of them hesitated outside the door. “Well, come on,”said Hermione slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside. Hazel was incredibly excited as she entered. It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog’s Head bar comprised one small, dingy, and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy, though as Hazel stepped onto it she realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty gray bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Hazel might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents; in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly. “I don’t know about this, Hermione,”Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. “Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?”Hermione cast an appraising eye at the veiled figure. “Umbridge is shorter than that woman,”she said quietly. “And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there’s nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I’ve double- and triple-checked the school rules. We’re not out-of-bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog’s Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I’ve looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they’re definitely allowed. I just don’t think it’s a good idea if we parade what we’re doing.”  
“No,”said Harry dryly, “especially as it’s not exactly a homework group you’re planning, is it?” The barman sidled toward them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry. “What?”he grunted. “Four butterbeers, please,”said Hermione. The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up four very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar. “Eight Sickles,”he said. “I’ll get them,”said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman’s eyes traveled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry’s money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Harry, Ron, Hazel, and Hermione retreated to the farthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around, while the man in the dirty gray bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman. “You know what?” Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. “We could order anything we liked in here, I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn’t care. I’ve always wanted to try firewhisky —”  
“You —are —a —prefect,”snarled Hermione. “Oh,” said Ron, the smile fading from his face. “Yeah . . .”  
Hazel felt momentarily compelled to stand up to Ron, but she decided she better not.  
“So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?” Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his butterbeer and taking a swig. “Just a couple of people,”Hermione repeated, checking her watch and then looking anxiously toward the door. “I told them to be here about now and I’m sure they all know where it is —oh look, this might be them now —”The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people. First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho (And Hazel decided right there and then, this wasn't about Harry or Cho. This was about learning and teaching. So she wouldn't be picking fights.) and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy that she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Hazel did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot; Ginny, followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Hazel recognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko’s merchandise. “A couple of people?”said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. “A couple of people?”  
“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,”said Hermione happily. “Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly he had never seen his pub so full. “Hi,”said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly. “Could we have . . . twenty-five butterbeers, please?”The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the bar. “Cheers,”said Fred, handing them out. “Cough up, everyone, I haven’t got enough gold for all of these . . .”   
Hazel stood up and turned to her friends. "I'll be back. Theres something I have to do." Said Hazel, then she walked over to Cho And her friend. "Excuse me." Said Hazel, to them. Cho looked up, her smiled faded a bit. Cho's friend walked away and joined Padma. "Hi Hazel." Said Chi, slowly. "Hello." Said Hazel. "Listen, I know we haven't been real buddy buddy lately... because we have a... similar interest." Said Hazel, glancing at Harry. "Yeah." Said Cho, softly. "And we used to be... at least acquaintances. But I want to make peace. At least for now. We are here to learn properly." Said Hazel. "I know. So can we agree to not even care about out.. er... common interest for now?" Asked Cho. "Absolutely." Said Hazel, smiling. "Great!" Said Cho, they both seemed incredibly more comfortable with each other now. "Well, I've got to get back to my friends, you're welcome gto come sit with us." Said Hazel. "Sure,I'd love too." Said Cho. They waved good bye, and Hazel walked back to the table.   
She sat down, beaming, and took a swig of her Butterbeer. "So, what were you doing?" Hermione asked Hazel. "Oh you know, making new friends." Said Hazel. “Hi, Harry,”said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite Harry. Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak.  
Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron’s right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look that told Hazel plainly that, given her way, she would not be here at all. In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron, and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood, seated next to Hazel, gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.   
"Hi everyone!" Said Hazel, cheerfully, a few people replied, others waved, Fred and George clapped and hooted until the owner threatened to throw them out.  
“Er,”said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. “Well —er —hi.” The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry. “Well . . . erm . . . well, you know why you’re here. Erm . . . well, Harry here had the idea —I mean”—Harry had thrown her a sharp look —“My best friend and I, Hatter Hazel... um... I mean Hazel Hatter had the idea —that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts." Hermione threw Hazel a pleading look. "—and we mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us  
because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts”  
—“Hear, hear,”said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened, then she provided Hazel to keep going. —“well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.”She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on, “And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells —”  
“You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?” said Michael Corner. “Of course we do,”said Hermione at once, Hazel backed down, letting her take charge now. “But we want more than that, we want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . .” She took a great breath, looked at Hazel, nodded and finished they both finished together, “Because Lord Voldemort’s back.”The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho’s friend shrieked and slopped butterbeer down herself, Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry. “Well . . . that’s the plan anyway,”said Hermione. “If you want to join us, we need to decide how we’re going to —”“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?”said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice. “Well, Dumbledore believes it —”Hermione began. “You mean, Dumbledore believes him,”said the blond boy, nodding at Harry. “Who are you?”said Ron rather rudely. “Zacharias Smith,”said the boy, “and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who’s back.”  
“Look,”said Hermione, intervening swiftly, “that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about —”“It’s okay, Hermione,”said Harry. “What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back?”he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the face. Hazel suddenly felt incredibly proud of her best friend. “I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.”The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Hazel had the impression that even the barman was listening in. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag; it was becoming steadily dirtier. Zacharias said dismissively, “All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know —”  
“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,”Harry said. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith’s aggressive face, determined not to look at Cho. “I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.” Hazel slammed her Butterbeer down to get everyone's attention, then she stood in her seat.  
"Listen! You all shut up and listen! You either believe Harry or you don't. So stay or get out! And if I hear another person ask about Cedric I will personally make sure you never talk about him again!" Yelled Hazel, fiercely. She looked around, Fred and George were beaming, but none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry and Hazel. She took her seat once more.  
“So,” said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. “So . . . like I was saying . . . if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we’re going to do it, how often we’re going to meet, and where we’re going to —”  
“Is it true,”interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, “that you can produce a Patronus?”There was a murmur of interest around the group at this. “Yeah,” said Harry slightly defensively. “A corporeal Patronus?”   
“Er —you don’t know Madam Bones, do you?”he asked. The girl smiled. “She’s my auntie,”she said. “I’m Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So —is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?”“Yes,”said Harry. “Blimey, Harry!”said Lee, looking deeply impressed. “I never knew that!”  
“Mum told Ron not to spread it around,”said Fred, grinning at Harry. “She said you got enough attention as it was.”  
“She’s not wrong,”mumbled Harry and a couple of people laughed. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat. “And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office?”demanded Terry Boot. “That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year . . .”  
“Er —yeah, I did, yeah,”said Harry. Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and Lavender Brown said “wow”softly.   
“And in our first year,”said Neville to the group at large, “he saved that Sorcerous Stone —”  
“Sorcerer’s,”hissed Hermione. “Yes, that, from You-Know-Who,”finished Neville. Hannah Abbott’s eyes were as round as Galleons. “And that’s not to mention,”said Cho “all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year —getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things . . .”   
"And he, by himself, defeated a hundred dementors and saved me." Said Hazel, smiling broadly.  
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. “Look,”he said and everyone fell silent at once, “I . . . I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but . . . I had a lot of help with all that stuff . . .”  
“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,”said Michael Corner at once. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying . . .”  
“Yeah, well —”said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree. “And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer, and a couple years ago, like Hazel said,” said Susan Bones. “No,”said Harry, “no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I’m trying to make is —”  
“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?”said Zacharias Smith. “Here’s an idea,”said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, “why don’t you shut your mouth?” Perhaps the word “weasel”had affected Ron particularly strongly; in any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed. “Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him, and now he’s telling us he can’t really do any of it,”he said. “That’s not what he said,” snarled Fred Weasley. “Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?”inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko’s bags. “Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this,”said Fred. Hazel began to laugh hysterically into her jacket.  
“Yes, well,”said Hermione hastily, nudging Hazel, “moving on . . . the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?”There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in George’s hand. “Right,”said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. “Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don’t think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week —”  
“Hang on,”said Angelina, “we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with our Quidditch practice.”  
“No,”said Cho, “nor with ours.”  
“Nor ours,”added Zacharias Smith. “I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone,”said Hermione, slightly impatiently, “but you know, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort’s Death Eaters —”  
“Well said!”barked Ernie Macmillan, whom Hazel had been expecting to speak long before this. “Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!”He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, “Surely not!” When nobody spoke, he went on, “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells —”“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione, “is that she’s got some . . . some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he’d mobilize us against the Ministry.” Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, “Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.”  
“What?”said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information. “Yes, he’s got an army of heliopaths,”said Luna solemnly. “No, he hasn’t,”snapped Hermione. "Hermione. Please." Moaned Hazel.  
“Yes, he has,”said Luna. “What are heliopaths?” asked Neville, looking blank. “They’re spirits of fire,”said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever. “Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of —”“They don’t exist, Neville,”said Hermione tartly. “Oh yes they do!”said Luna angrily. “I’m sorry, but where’s the proof of that?”snapped Hermione. “There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you’re so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you —”  
“Hem, hem,”said Ginny in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and get Defense lessons?”  
“Yes,”said Hermione at once, “yes, we were, you’re right . . .”  
“Well, once a week sounds cool,”said Lee Jordan. “As long as —”began Angelina. “Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch,”said Hermione in a tense voice. “Well, the other thing to decide is where we’re going to meet . . .” This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent. “Library?”suggested Katie Bell after a few moments. “I can’t see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,”said Harry. “Maybe an unused classroom?”said Dean. “Yeah,”said Ron, “McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard . . .” But Hazel was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, he had the distinct feeling this one might be considered a lot more rebellious. “Right, well, we’ll try to find somewhere,”said Hermione. “We’ll send a message round to everybody when we’ve got a time and a place for the first meeting.” She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something. “I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think,”she took a deep breath, “that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we’re doing. So if you sign, you’re agreeing not to tell Umbridge —or anybody else —what we’re up to.” Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down his signature, but Hazel noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list. “Er . . .”said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass him. “Well . . . I’m sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.” But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. “I —well, we are prefects,”Ernie burst out. “And if this list was found . . . well, I mean to say . . . you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out . . .”  
“You just said this group was the most important thing you’d do this year,”Harry reminded him. “I —yes,”said Ernie, “yes, I do believe that, it’s just . . .”  
"Ernie... please... we aren't just going to lea it laying around. So sign it." Said Hazel, emphasizing the last two word. He signed it hesitantly.  
Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Hazel saw Cho’s friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her name. When the last person —Zacharias —had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract. “Well, time’s ticking on,” said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. “George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we’ll be seeing you all later.”In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave too. Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forward to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry. “Well, I think that went quite well,”said Hermione happily, as she, Harry, Hazel, and Ron walked out of the Hog’s Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later, Harry and Ron still clutching their bottles of butterbeer. “That Zacharias bloke’s a wart,”said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith just discernible in the distance. “I don’t like him much either,”admitted Hermione, “but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really —I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t been going out with Ginny —”  
Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed butterbeer down his front. “He’s WHAT?”said Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. “She’s going out with —my sister’s going —what d’you mean, Michael Corner?”  
“Well, that’s why he and his friends came, I think —well, they’re obviously interested in learning Defense, but if Ginny hadn’t told Michael what was going on —”  
“When did this —when did she —?”  
“They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year,”said Hazel composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant-feather quills in the window. “Hmm . . . I could do with a new quill.”She turned into the shop. Harry and Ron followed her. “Which one was Michael Corner?”Ron demanded furiously. “The dark one,”said Hermione. “I didn’t like him,”said Ron at once. “Big surprise,”said Hermione under her breath. “But,”said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, “I thought Ginny fancied Harry!”Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head. “Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn’t like you, of course,”she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black-and-gold quill.   
“So that’s why she talks now?”he asked Hermione. “She never used to talk in front of me.”  
“Exactly,”said Hermione. “Yes, I think I’ll have this one . . .”She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, Ron still breathing down her neck. “Ron,”she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, “this is exactly why Ginny hasn’t told you she’s seeing Michael, she knew you’d take it badly. So don’t harp on about it, for heaven’s sake.”“What d’you mean, who’s taking anything badly? I’m not going to harp on about anything . . .” Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street.

The next morning Hazel awoke, threw on her robes and left the dorm. She walked down the girls stair case and walked into the common room. She noticed a tall red haired boy, and a black haired boy stranding, back to her, staring at the Gryffindor notice board. She walked over to Harry and Ron, she tapped them on the shoulder.   
"Whats up?" She asked. Ron pointed at a a large sign that had been affixed to the Gryffindor notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there —the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasleys’new advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost-and-found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.   
\-------BY ORDER OF-------  
The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts  
All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded. An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge). No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor. Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four  
Hazel looked and felt absolutely scandalized.  
"The complete and utter TOAD!" Exclaimed Hazel angrily. "W-why I could just punch something!"   
"Lets not." Said Ron, looking a bit worried at this statement.  
“This isn’t a coincidence,”Harry said, his hands forming fists. “She knows.” said Hazel darkly.  
“She can’t,”said Ron at once. “There were people listening in that pub. And let’s face it, we don’t know how many of the people who turned up we can trust. . . . Any of them could have run off and told Umbridge . . .”  
“Zacharias Smith!”said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. “Or —I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look too —”  
"No Ron. It was Lavender. Obviously. I can't come up with the slightest idea why she would be there, if not to spy."   
"Shut up, you just hate her because she likes-."   
“I wonder if Hermione’s seen this yet?”Harry said, looking around at the door to the girls’ dormitories. “Let’s go and tell her,”said Hazel. Ron bounded forward, pulled open the door, and set off up the spiral staircase. He was on the sixth stair when it happened. There was a loud, wailing, klaxonlike sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backward and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry’s feet. “Er —I don’t think we’re allowed in the girls’ dormitories,”said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh, but Hazel on the other hand began to absolutely crack up. "Didn't expect that, did you Ron?" She asked through laughs.  
Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide. “Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?”they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron. “Me,”said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. “I didn’t realize that would happen. It’s not fair!”he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. “Hermione’s allowed in our dormitory, how come we’re not allowed —?”  
“Well, it’s an old-fashioned rule,”said Hermione, who had just slid neatly onto a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, “but it says in Hogwarts: A History that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?”  
“To see you —look at this!”said Ron, dragging her over to the notice board. Hermione’s eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony. “Someone must have blabbed to her!” Ron said angrily. “They can’t have done,”said Hermione in a low voice. “You’re so naive,”said Ron, “you think just because you’re all honorable and trustworthy —”  
"Shut up Ron! They actually couldn't! It wasn't physically possible!" Said Hazel.  
“They can’t have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed,”said Hermione grimly. “Believe me, if anyone’s run off and told Umbridge, we’ll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it.”  
“What’ll happen to them?”said Ron eagerly. “Well, put it this way,”said Hermione, “it’ll make Eloise Midgen’s acne look like a couple of cute freckles. (Hazel immediately gave Hermione a high five.) Come on, let’s get down to breakfast and see what the others think. . . . I wonder whether this has been put up in all the Houses?” It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge’s sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron, Hazel, and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon them. “Did you see it?”  
“D’you reckon she knows?”  
“What are we going to do?”They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them. “We’re going to do it anyway, of course,”he said quietly. "Oh Harry!" Exclaimed Hazel, positively beaming.  
“Knew you’d say that,”said George, Smiling and thumping Harry on the arm. “The prefects as well?”said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione. “Of course,”said Hermione coolly. “Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott,”said Ron, looking over his shoulder. “And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith . . . and no one looks very spotty.”Hermione looked alarmed. “Never mind spots, the idiots can’t come over here now, it’ll look really suspicious —sit down!”she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. “Later! We’ll —talk —to —you —later!”  
“I’ll tell Michael,”said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench. “The fool, honestly . . .” She hurried off toward the Ravenclaw table.  
But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic. “Harry! Hazel! Ron!” It was Angelina and she was hurrying toward them looking perfectly desperate. “It’s okay,”said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. “We’re still going to —”  
“You realize she’s including Quidditch in this?”Angelina said over him. “We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!”  
"WHAT!" Yelled Hazel.  
“What?”said Harry. “No way,”said Ron, appalled. “You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry, Hazel . . . I am saying this for the last time. . . . Please, please don’t lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play anymore!”  
“Okay, okay,”said Hazel and Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. “Don’t worry, we'll behave ourselves . . .”  
“Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic,”said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns’s lesson. “She hasn’t inspected Binns yet. . . . Bet you anything she’s there . . .” But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Hazel didn't listen, in fact she pulled out a few charcoal pencils and began to draw the thing Harry had describes last week, the horse.  
But Hazel was interrupted by Hermione’s frequent glares and nudges.  
As Hazel kept looking up, she noticed Hermione was now looking else where. They exchanged looks, Hermione poked Harry in the ribs and Hazel poked Harry's arm. “What?” he asked then angrily.  
She pointed at the window. Harry looked around. Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. Many of Hazel's classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other too. “Oh, I’ve always loved that owl, she’s so beautiful." Hazel heard Lavender sigh to Parvati. She glanced around at Professor Binns who continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class’s attention was even less focused upon him than usual. Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down, and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.  
He closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again, and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap, and made to remove the letter tied to her leg. It was only then that he realized that Hedwig’s feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle. “She’s hurt!”Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. “Look —there’s something wrong with her wing —” Said Hazel.  
Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully. “Professor Binns,”said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. “I’m not feeling well.” Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people. “Not feeling well?” he repeated hazily. “Not at all well,” said Harry firmly, getting to his feet while concealing Hedwig behind his back. “So I think I’ll need to go to the hospital wing.”  
“Yes,”said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong-footed. “Yes . . . yes, hospital wing . . . well, off you go, then, Perkins . . .”   
Hazel watched Harry go, then she waited a few moments, she searched her pockets quickly, then she found a nosebleed nougat in her pocket. She looked at Hermione for a moment, she looked alarmed.  
Hazel put the nougat in her mouth, the second it hit her tongue she felt her nose start to bleed. "Professor!" Exclaimed Hazel, acting as if this nosebleed was a complete surprise. "I need to go to the hospital wing." Said Hazel, in a frantic tone. "Huh? Oh my. Yes I suppose you do. Very well, miss Granger, off you go." Said Professor Binns.   
Hazel ran out of the class room, she quickly popped the antidote into her mouth, her nosebleed cleared up completely. Hazel ran forward looking for Harry, frantically. "Harry!" She whispered urgently. "Harry!" She was suddenly pulled by her arm of her robes behind a statue. "What are you doing!?" Hissed Harry. Hazel prised his hands off her robes. "Can't let you have all the fun, now can I?" Asked Hazel, smiling at Harry. "You are crazy." Said Harry. "'Course I am. I'm your friend." Said Hazel. Harry just stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. "Fine. Come on." Said Harry. They set off downstairs, Hedwig hooting feebly as she swayed on Harry's shoulder. Two stone gargoyles flanked the staffroom door. As they approached, one of them croaked, “You should be in class.”  
“This is urgent,”said Harry curtly. “Ooooh, urgent, is it?”said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. “Well, that’s put us in our place, hasn’t it?”Harry knocked; he heard footsteps and then the door opened and they found themselves face-to-face with Professor McGonagall. “You two haven’t been given another detention!”she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly. “No, Professor!”said Harry and Hazel hastily. “Well then, why are you out of class?”  
“It’s urgent, apparently,”said the second gargoyle snidely. “I’m looking for Professor Grubbly-Plank,” Harry explained. “It’s my owl, she’s injured.”  
“Injured owl, did you say?”Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at Professor McGonagall’s shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet. “Yes,”said Harry, lifting Hedwig carefully off his shoulder, “she turned up after the other post owls and her wing’s all funny, look —”Professor Grubbly-Plank stuck her pipe firmly between her teeth and took Hedwig from Harry while Professor McGonagall watched. “Hmm,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank, her pipe waggling slightly as she talked. “Looks like something’s attacked her. Can’t think what would have done it, though. . . . Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid’s got the Hogwarts thestrals well trained not to touch owls . . .” Hazel neither knew nor cared what thestrals were, he just wanted to know that Hedwig was going to be all right. Professor McGonagall, however, looked sharply at Harry and said, “Do you know how far this owl’s traveled, Potter?”  
“Er,”said Harry. “From London, I think.” Hazel met her eyes briefly and knew that she understood “London”to mean “number twelve, Grimmauld Place”by the way her eyebrows had joined in the middle. Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a monocle out of the inside of her robes and screwed it into her eye to examine Hedwig’s wing closely. “I should be able to sort this out if you leave her with me, Potter,”she said. “She shouldn’t be flying long distances for a few days, in any case.”  
“Er —right —thanks,”said Harry, just as the bell rang for break. “No problem,”said Professor Grubbly-Plank gruffly, turning back into the staffroom. “Just a moment, Wilhelmina!”said Professor McGonagall. “Potter’s letter!”  
“Oh yeah!”said Harry. Professor Grubbly-Plank handed it over and then disappeared into the staffroom carrying Hedwig. “Potter!”  
“Yes, Professor?”She glanced up and down the corridor; there were students coming from both directions. “Bear in mind,”she said quickly and quietly, her eyes on the scroll in his hand, “that channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be being watched, won’t you?”  
“I —”said Harry, but the flood of students rolling along the corridor was almost upon him. Professor McGonagall gave him a curt nod and retreated into the staffroom, leaving Harry to be swept out into the courtyard with the crowd. They spotted Ron and Hermione already standing in a sheltered corner, their cloak collars turned up against the wind. Harry slit open the scroll as he hurried toward them. "What does it say?" Asked Hazel. "Today, same time, same place." Read Harry. "Snuffles?" Hazel wondered. "Maybe." Said Harry.  
"Is Hedwig okay?”asked Hermione anxiously, the moment he was within earshot. “Where did you take her?”asked Ron. “To Grubbly-Plank,”said Harry. “And I met McGonagall . . . Listen . . .”And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. Neither of the others looked shocked; on the contrary, they exchanged significant looks. “What?”said Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione and back again. “Well, I was just saying to Ron . . . what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she’s never been hurt on a flight before, has she?”  
“Who’s the letter from anyway?”asked Ron, taking the note from Harry. “Snuffles,”said Harry quietly. “‘Same time, same place’? Does he mean the fire in the common room?”  
“Obviously,”said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. “I just hope nobody else has read this . . .”  
“But it was still sealed and everything,”said Harry.  
“And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn’t know where we’d spoken to him before, would they?”  
“I don’t know,”said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again. “It wouldn’t be exactly difficult to reseal the scroll by magic. . . . And if anyone’s watching the Floo Network . . . but I don’t really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted too!”Said Hazel, her fear growing.  
They trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all four of them lost in thought, but as they reached the bottom of the stairs they were recalled to themselves by the voice of Draco Malfoy, who was standing just outside Snape’s classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that they could hear every word. “Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he’s always popping in and out of the Ministry. . . . It’ll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won’t it?”  
“Don’t rise,” Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry, Hazel, and Ron, who were all watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. “It’s what he wants . . .”  
"Then I'm about to take the bait." Growled Hazel.   
“I mean,”said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his gray eyes glittering malevolently in Harry, Hazel, and Ron’s direction, “if it’s a question of influence with the Ministry, I don’t think they’ve got much chance. . . . From what my father says, they’ve been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. . . . And as for Potter . . . My father says it’s a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo’s. . . . apparently they’ve got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic . . .”Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter, Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee. Something collided hard with Harry’s shoulder, knocking him sideways. A split second later Hazel realized that Neville had just charged past Harry, heading straight for Malfoy. “Neville, no!” Hazel leapt forward and seized the back of Neville’s robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked. “Help me!”Hazel flung at Harry, managing to get an arm around Neville’s neck and dragging him backward, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were now flexing their arms, closing in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. Harry hurried forward and seized Neville’s arms; together, she and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville’s face was scarlet; the pressure Harry was exerting on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth. “Not . . . funny . . . don’t . . . Mungo’s . . . show . . . him . . .” The dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and Hazel were wrestling with Neville. “Fighting, Potter, Hatter, Longbottom?”Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. “Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, both of you, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you.” Hazel and Harry let go of Neville, who stood panting and glaring at them. “I had to stop you," Hazel gasped, picking up her bag. “Crabbe and Goyle would’ve torn you apart.”   
"You could have helped me. You can almost take them alone." Growled Neville.  
"Neville you an I both know I couldn't have taken them! Even with your help. They're bloody giants." Said Hazel.  
Neville said nothing, he merely snatched up his own bag and stalked off into the dungeon. “What in the name of Merlin,”said Ron slowly, as they followed Neville, “was that about?”   
"I haven't a clue... But I want to find out." Said Hazel. Harry, Ron, Hazel, and Hermione took their usual seats at the back of the class and pulled out parchment, quills, and their copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. The class around them was whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang everybody fell silent immediately. “You will notice,”said Snape in his low, sneering voice, “that we have a guest with us today.”He gestured toward the dim corner of the dungeon, and Hazel saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. She glanced sideways at Ron, Harry, and Hermione, her eyebrows furrowed. Snape and Umbridge, the two teachers she hated most . . . it was hard to decide which she wanted to triumph over the other. She eventually decided she wanted them both to tear each other apart. Yes, that would be best. “We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend —instructions”—he waved his wand again —“on the board. Carry on.”Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Hazel was very interested in hearing her question Snape. Hazel watched them intently as she mixed her potion, keeping it a steady turquoise.  
Umbridge had just gotten to her feet. "Ha." Harry said softly, as she strode between two lines of desks toward Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas’s cauldron. “Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level,” she said briskly to Snape’s back. “Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus.”Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her. “Now . . . how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?”she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. “Fourteen years,”Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange, "No! Harry!" Moaned Hazel. “You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?”Professor Umbridge asked Snape. “Yes,”said Snape quietly. “But you were unsuccessful?”Snape’s lip curled. “Obviously.”Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. “And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?”  
“Yes,”said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. “Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?”asked Umbridge. “I suggest you ask him,”said Snape jerkily. “Oh I shall,”said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. “I suppose this is relevant?”Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. “Oh yes,”said Professor Umbridge. “Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers’—er —backgrounds . . .” She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and, Hazel saw their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. “No marks again, then, Potter,”said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry’s cauldron with a wave of his wand. “You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?”  
“Yes,”said Harry furiously.   
"Oh, Harry." Said Hazel, softly.   
Harry looked thoroughly angry. "No... Professor!" Exclaimed Hazel, politely. Snape turned and glared at Hazel. "That was my potion. I had just moved away for a moment to get a snakes fang." Said Hazel.   
Snape raised his eyebrows. "No it wasn't yours! That was mine! Yours is the perfect one." Said Harry, ladling some of her potion to show how clear and blue hers was. "That's enough. Fifteen points from Gryffindor. I don't tolerate lying nor any stupid acts of nobility. And not another word about it miss Hatter." Said Snape. “Maybe I’ll skive off Divination,”he said glumly as they stood again in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of robes and brims of hats. “I’ll pretend to be ill and do Snape’s essay instead, then I won’t have to stay up half the night . . .”  
“You can’t skive off Divination,”said Hermione severely. “Hark who’s talking, you walked out of Divination, you hate Trelawney!”said Ron indignantly. “I don’t hate her,”said Hermione loftily. “I just think she’s an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud. . . . But Harry’s already missed History of Magic and I don’t think he ought to miss anything else today!”There was too much truth in this to ignore, so half an hour later Hazel took her seat net to Harry in the hot, over-perfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom. Professor Trelawney was handing out copies of The Dream Oracle yet again.  
Harry was not the only person in Divination who was in a temper. Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Harry, Hazel, and Ron and swept away, her lips pursed; she threw the next copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus’s head, and thrust the final one into Neville’s chest with such force that he slipped off his pouf. “Well, carry on!”said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high pitched and somewhat hysterical. “You know what to do! Or am I such a substandard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?”The class stared perplexedly at her and then at each other. Hazel knew exactly what had happened.  
As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teacher’s chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears. Harry leaned his head closer to Hazel's, and Ron’s and muttered, “I think she’s got the results of her inspection back.”  
"Obviously!" Said Hazel in a fierce whisper.“Professor?”said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). “Professor, is there anything —er —wrong?”  
“Wrong!”cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. “Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly. . . . Insinuations have been made against me. . . . Unfounded accusations levelled . . . but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not . . .”She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses. “I say nothing,”she choked, “of sixteen years’ devoted service. . . . It has passed, apparently, unnoticed. . . . But I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!”  
“But Professor, who’s insulting you?”asked Parvati timidly. “The establishment!”said Professor Trelawney in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. “Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the Mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know . . . Of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted. . . . It is —alas —our fate . . .”She gulped, dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, and then pulled a small, embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, into which she blew her nose very hard with a sound like Peeves blowing a raspberry. Ron sniggered, Hazel punched him hard in the shoulder. "You needn't laugh, Ronald! No one should be treated like that! She might be a fraud, but she is admired! Besides, Umbridge is a toad!" Exclaimed Hazel. "Trelawney is a right old nut." Said Ron.  
Lavender shot him a disgusted look. “Professor,”said Parvati, “do you mean . . . is it something Professor Umbridge . . . ?”“Do not speak to me about that woman!”cried Professor Trelawney, leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. “Kindly continue with your work!”And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath. “. . . may well choose to leave . . . the indignity of it . . . on probation . . . we shall see . . . how she dares . . .”  
“You and Umbridge have got something in common,”Harry told Hermione quietly when they met again in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “She obviously reckons Trelawney’s an old fraud too. . . . Looks like she’s put her on probation.”Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness. “Good afternoon, class.”“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,”they chanted drearily. “Wands away, please . . .”But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands. “Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled ‘The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack.’There will be —”  
“—no need to talk,”Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione said together under their breaths.

“No Quidditch practice,”said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room that night after dinner. “But I kept my temper!”said Harry, horrified. “I didn’t say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I —” Said Hazel, quite defensively.  
“I know, I know,”said Angelina miserably. “She just said she needed a bit of time to consider.”  
“Consider what?”said Ron angrily. “She’s given the Slytherins permission, why not us?”  
“Well,”said Hermione, “look on the bright side —at least now you’ll have time to do Snape’s essay!”  
“That’s a bright side, is it?”snapped Harry, while Ron stared incredulously at Hermione. “No Quidditch practice and extra Potions?”Harry slumped down into a chair, dragged his Potions essay reluctantly from his bag.  
"I'll help you." Said Hazel, sitting by him. "No way! You've done more than enough today! Trying to take my mistakes upon yourself. Absolutely crazy." Said Harry. "Oh, shut up. I was just trying to show Snape that you could do a good job." Said Hazel, picking up a quill. "Anyway, like I said, of course I'm crazy. I'm your friend, aren't I?" It was very hard to concentrate; even though Hazel knew that Sirius was not due in the fire until much later he could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case, and she couldn't help think how stupid he was to try to communicate like this again.  
There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd. First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry’s potions. What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering, and Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, Hazel was finding it exceptionally difficult to explain the correct method for Strengthening Solutions. Hermione was not helping matters; the cheers and sound of vomit hitting the bottom of Fred and George’s bucket were punctuated by loud and disapproving sniffs. “Just go and stop them, then!”he said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time. “I can’t, they’re not technically doing anything wrong,”said Hermione through gritted teeth. “They’re quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves, and I can’t find a rule that says the other idiots aren’t entitled to buy them, not unless they’re proven to be dangerous in some way, and it doesn’t look as though they are . . .”  
"Oh honestly!" Exclaimed Hazel, throwing down her quill.  
She, Hermione, Harry, and Ron watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew, and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause. Hazel stood up, walked towards them and tried to push past the crowd. When no progress was made she resorted to yelling. "GET OUT OF MY WAY! ALL OF YOU!" Suddenly, like someone had cast a shield spell, the group was divided in half. Hazel walked up to Lee, George, and Fred. "Could you possibly keep it down? ALL OF YOU?" Said Hazel. "I am trying to help write an essay, and that isn't going to well with this mob over here. So unless in have to bring Mcgonagall into this, please shut up." Said Hazel then she walked away. She sat back down, by Harry. Her friends where all looking at her. "What?" She asked, blushing. "You're a monster. Like really! Half of those people are older than you, and the listen to you instantly!" Exclaimed Ron. "Its called confidence. Besides, you have to make yourself looked tall, and important. And people will listen." Said Hazel. Then she looked back down at Harry's essay. "So, what is the proper color that the potion should be?" She asked. Her friends kept goggling at her, but Harry answered slowly.

It was well past midnight as Harry put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, looked blearily into the fire and said, “Sirius!”Harry whipped around; Sirius’s untidy dark head was sitting in the fire again. “Hi,”he said, grinning. “Hi,”chorused Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione, all four kneeling down upon the hearthrug. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius’s. “How’re things?”said Sirius. “Not that good,”said Harry, as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers. “The Ministry’s forced through another decree, which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams —”  
“—or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?”said Sirius. There was a short pause. “How did you know about that?”Harry demanded. “You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,”said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. “The Hog’s Head, I ask you . . .”  
“Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!”said Hermione defensively. “That’s always packed with people —”“—which means you’d have been harder to overhear,”said Sirius. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Hermione.”  
“Who overheard us?”Harry demanded. “Mundungus, of course,”said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. “He was the witch under the veil.”  
“That was Mundungus?”Harry said, stunned. “What was he doing in the Hog’s Head?”“What do you think he was doing?”said Sirius impatiently. “Keeping an eye on you, of course.”  
“I’m still being followed?”asked Harry angrily. "Wait my question is, why was dung dressed like a witch? He could be anything but-?"  
"I'm still being followed?" Asked Harry, testily. “Yeah, you are,”said Sirius, “and just as well, isn’t it, if the first thing you’re going to do on your weekend off is organize an illegal defense group.”But he looked neither angry nor worried; on the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride. “Why was Dung hiding from us?”asked Ron, sounding disappointed. “We’d’ve liked to’ve seen him.”  
“He was banned from the Hog’s Head twenty years ago,”said Sirius, “and that barman’s got a long memory. We lost Moody’s spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested. And to answer your question, Hazel Dung’s been dressing as a witch a lot lately. . . . Anyway . . . First of all, Ron —I’ve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.”  
“Oh yeah?”said Ron, sounding apprehensive. “She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you’ll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also”—Sirius’s eyes turned to the other three —“advises Harry, Hermione, and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you’d all have been in real trouble, and she can’t say it for herself because she’s on duty tonight.”  
“On duty doing what?”said Ron quickly. “Never you mind, just stuff for the Order,”said Sirius. “So it’s fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don’t think she trusts me to.” There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewing, attempted to paw Sirius’s head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug. “So you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the defense group?” he muttered finally. “Me? Certainly not!”said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think it’s an excellent idea!”  
“You do?”said Harry.  
"Really?" Asked Hazel, excitedly.  
“Of course I do, Hazel!”said Sirius. “D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge, Harry?”  
“But —last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —”  
“Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!”said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!”  
“And if we do get expelled?”Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face. “Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!”said Harry, staring at her. “I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought,”she said, shrugging. “Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,”said Sirius. “Hear, hear,”said Harry and Ron enthusiastically. “So,”said Sirius, “how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?”  
“Well, that’s a bit of a problem now,”said Harry. “Dunno where we’re going to be able to go . . .”  
“How about the Shrieking Shack?”suggested Sirius. “Hey, that’s an idea!”said Ron excitedly, but Hermione made a skeptical noise and all four of them looked at her, Sirius’s head turning in the flames. “Well, Sirius, it’s just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school,”said Hermione, “and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you’d wanted to."   
"But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn’t need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee —” said Hazel.  
“Fair point,”said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. “Well, I’m sure you’ll come up with somewhere. . . . There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there —”  
“Fred and George told me it’s blocked,”said Harry, shaking his head. “Caved in or something.”  
“Oh . . .”said Sirius, frowning. “Well, I’ll have a think and get back to —”He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace. “Sirius?”said Harry anxiously. "Sirius?!" Asked Hazel, she prodded the fire with the poker. But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at Ron, Hazel, and Hermione. “Why did he —?” Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire. When Hazel realized what Hermione was shocked at, she let out a scream and stumbled backwards into Ron. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings. . . . The four of them ran for it; at the door of the girls’ dormitory Hazel looked back. Umbridge’s hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius’s hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it. "You don't think she saw, do you?" Hazel asked Hermione. "I really really hope not." Said Hermione, then they scurried into their room.

 

"Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There’s no other explanation.” said Hazel, fuming.  
“You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?”he said, outraged. “I’m almost certain of it,”said Hazel grimly. “Watch your frog, it’s escaping.” Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully toward the other side of the table —“Accio!”—and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand. Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat: There was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed. “Well, I’ve been suspecting this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it seemed such a stupid lie,” Hermione whispered. “I mean, once your letter had been read, it would have been quite clear you weren’t ordering them, so you wouldn’t have been in trouble at all —it’s a bit of a feeble joke, isn’t it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it —tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it —I don’t think Filch would object, when’s he ever stuck up for a student’s rights? Harry, you’re squashing your frog.”Harry looked down; he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk. “It was a very, very close call last night,”said Hermione. “I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silencio!” The bullfrog on which she was practicing her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully. “If she’d caught Snuffles . . .”Harry finished the sentence for her. “He’d probably be back in Azkaban this morning.”He waved his wand without really concentrating; his bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle. “Silencio!”said Hazel hastily, pointing her wand at Harry’s frog, which deflated silently before them. “Well, he mustn’t do it again, that’s all. I just don’t know how we’re going to let him know. We can’t send him an owl.”  
“I don’t reckon he’ll risk it again,”said Ron. “He’s not stupid, he knows she nearly got him. Silencio!” The large and ugly raven in front of him let out a derisive caw. “Silencio! SILENCIO!” The raven cawed more loudly. “It’s the way you’re moving your wand,”said Hermione, watching Ron critically. “You don’t want to wave it, it’s more a sharp jab.”  
“Ravens are harder than frogs,”said Ron testily.   
"No they arent. Watch." Said Hazel. She held her raven, one much prettier than Ron's, and she said "Silencio." And she waved her wand. It stopped crowing and just stared around. Ron rolled his eyes. "Silencio." He said, waving his wand, it just increased the sound more. “Fine, let’s swap,”said Hermione, seizing Ron’s raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. “Silencio!” The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out. “Very good, Miss Granger!”said Professor Flitwick’s squeaky little voice and Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione all jumped. “Now, let me see you try, Mr. Weasley!”  
“Wha —? Oh —oh, right,”said Ron, very flustered. “Er —Silencio!”He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard that he poked it in the eye; the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk. It came as no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework. They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody’s head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling toward them through the groups of gossiping students. “I’ve got permission!”she said. “To re-form the Quidditch team!”“Excellent!”said Ron and Harry together. "Oh! Angelina, that's brilliant!" Exclaimed Hazel.  
“Yeah,”said Angelina, beaming. “I went to McGonagall and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore —anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o’clock tonight, all right, because we’ve got to make up time, you realize we’re only three weeks away from our first match?”She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first year instead, and vanished from sight. Ron’s smile slipped slightly as he looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain. “Hope this clears up . . . What’s up with you, Hermione?” She too was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it. Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face. “Just thinking . . .”she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window. “About Siri . . . Snuffles?”said Harry. “No . . . not exactly . . .”said Hermione slowly. “More . . . wondering . . . I suppose we’re doing the right thing . . . I think . . . aren’t we?”Harry, Hazel, and Ron looked at each other. “Well, that clears that up,”said Ron. “It would’ve been really annoying if you hadn’t explained yourself properly.” Hermione looked at him as though she had only just realized he was there. “I was just wondering,” she said, her voice stronger now, “whether we’re doing the right thing, starting this Defense Against the Dark Arts group.”  
“What!”said Harry and Ron together. “Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!”said Ron indignantly. “I know,”said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. “But after talking to Snuffles . . .”  
“But he’s all for it!”said Harry. “Yes,”said Hermione, staring at the window again. “Yes, that’s what made me think maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all . . .” Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically all four of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed. “Let’s get this straight,”said Harry angrily, as they put their bags back on the floor, “Sirius agrees with us, so you don’t think we should do it anymore?”Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands she said, “Do you honestly trust his judgment?”  
“Yes, I do!”said Harry at once. “He’s always given us great advice!”  
"Harry... what if Hermione's right though? I mean-." Said Hazel.  
"Really? Just because Snuffles loves the idea, it's suddenly horrible? I mean do you hate him that much?" Asked Harry.  
"Harry! I dont hate Siriu... SNUFFLES!" Exclaimed Hazel.  
"Then what?" Asked Harry.  
“You don’t think he has become . . . sort of . . . reckless . . . since he’s been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don’t think he’s . . . kind of . . . living through us?”  
“What d’you mean, ‘living through us’?” Harry retorted. “She means . . . well, I think he’d love to be forming secret defense societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry. . . . I think he’s really frustrated at how little he can do where he is . . . so I think he’s keen to kind of . . . egg us on.” explained Hermione.  
Ron looked utterly perplexed. “Sirius is right,” he said, “you do sound just like my mother.” Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down upon Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head. The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o’clock that evening, when Harry, Hazel, and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within minutes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery gray and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying. “—but I bet she’d know what we’d done,” Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. “If only I hadn’t offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday —”  
“We could try the Fever Fudge,”George muttered, “no one’s seen that yet —”  
“Does it work?” inquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building. "Ron!" Exclaimed Hazel.  
“Well, yeah,”said Fred, “your temperature’ll go right up —”  
“—but you get these massive pus-filled boils too,”said George, “and we haven’t worked out how to get rid of them yet.”  
“I can’t see any boils,”said Ron, staring at the twins. “No, well, you wouldn’t,”said Fred darkly, “they’re not in a place we generally display to the public —”  
“—but they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the —”  
“All right, everyone, listen up,”said Angelina loudly, emerging from the Captain’s office. “I know it’s not ideal weather, but there’s a good chance we’ll be playing Slytherin in conditions like this so it’s a good idea to work out how we’re going to cope with them. Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?”  
“Hermione did it,”said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!”  
“I think we all ought to try that,”said Angelina. “If we could just keep the rain off our faces it would really help visibility —all together, come on —Impervius! Okay. Let’s go.” They all stowed their wands back in the inside pockets of their robes, shouldered their brooms, and followed Angelina out of the changing rooms. They squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light was fading fast and curtains of rain were sweeping the grounds. “All right, on my whistle,”shouted Angelina. Hazel kicked off from the ground, spraying mud in all directions, and shot upward, the wind pulling her slightly off course. "Katie! Hit it here!" Yelled Hazel, although she hadn't the slightest clue where Katie was. Then suddenly the bludger came flying at her, full speed. It was going to hit her! "Reducio!" She exclaimed, Ponting her wand at the bludger. She saw it shrink and fly past her. "Hazel!" Yelled Angelina, zooming towards her. "You can't just shrink our bludger!"  
"To hell I can't if its zooming straight at me." Replied Hazel, indignantly. "Go find it!" Roared Angelina. "And cut the back talk!"  
"Yes, captain!" Hissed Hazel angrily. "Accio bludger!"  
The miniature bludger came zooming up and landed in her hand. She threw it at Angelina, who fumbled with it and finally held it tight. "Why you-!"   
"Hazel! Haze! What are you doing?" Asked Katie Bell, flying towards her. "Just talking with Angelina." Grumbled Hazel, then she flew away.  
The wind was picking up; even at a distance Hazel could hear the swishing, pounding sounds of the rain pummeling the surface of the lake. Angelina kept them at it for nearly an hour before conceding defeat. She led her sodden and disgruntled team back into the changing rooms, insisting that the practice had not been a waste of time, though without any real conviction in her voice. Fred and George were looking particularly annoyed; both were bandy-legged and winced with every movement. Hazel could hear them complaining in low voices as she pulled off her sopping wet quidditch robes. “I think a few of mine have ruptured,”said Fred in a hollow voice. “Mine haven’t,”said George, wincing. “They’re throbbing like mad . . . feel bigger if anything . . .”“OUCH!” yelled Harry, suddenly.  
Hazel ran over to him, and pulled his towel away from his face. “What’s up?”said several voices. Harry emerged from behind his towel  
towel.  
"Harry? Harry, what is wrong?" Asked Hazel.  
“Nothing,”he muttered, “I —poked myself in the eye, that’s all . . .” But he gave Hazel and Ron a significant look and the three of them hung back as the rest of the team filed back outside, muffled in their cloaks, their hats pulled low over their ears. “What happened?”said Ron, the moment that Alicia had disappeared through the door. “Was it your scar?” asked Hazel, worriedly.  
Harry nodded. “But . . .” Looking scared, Ron strode across to the window and stared out into the rain, “He —he can’t be near us now, can he?”  
“No,”Harry muttered, sinking onto a bench and rubbing his forehead. “He’s probably miles   
“Did you see him?”said Ron, looking horrified. “Did you . . . get a vision, or something?”  
"Harry... you dont think you might, now I'm just saying this theoreticly so please don't get mad, you might, someday, be able to see into Voldemort's mind?" Asked Hazel. Harry sat quite still, staring at his feet.  
“Gee, Hazel I hope not. He wants something done, and it’s not happening fast enough,”he said.   
“But . . . how do you know?”said Ron. Harry shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands, pressing down upon them with his palms. Hazel hesitated a moment, then set her hand on his knee. "How do you know?" She asked, again.  
"I... I don't. I mean... I dont think do." Said Harry, rubbing his eye.  
“Is this what it was about last time?”said Ron in a hushed voice. “When your scar hurt in Umbridge’s office? You-Know-Who was angry?”  
“Last time, it was because he was pleased,”he said. “Really pleased. He thought . . . something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Hogwarts . . .”   
“He was furious . . .” He looked around at Hazel, who was gaping at him. “You could take over from Trelawney, mate,” Ron said in an awed voice. “I’m not making prophecies,”said Harry. “No, you know what you’re doing?”Ron said, sounding both scared and impressed. “Harry, you’re reading You-Know-Who’s mind. . . .”  
“No,”said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too . . .”There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. “You’ve got to tell someone,”said Hazel. “I told Sirius last time.”  
“Well, tell him about this time!” Exclaimed Hazel.  
“Can’t, can I?”said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?”  
“Well then, Dumbledore —”  
“I’ve just told you, he already knows,”said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.”Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’d want to know,”he said. Harry shrugged.  
"We can tell someone over Christmas." Said Hazel, buttoning her cloak. "Thats a while away-." said Harry. "Its that or tell Dumbledore." Said Hazel. "Alright." Said Harry.   
“C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .” Said Harry.  
They hurried back through the dark grounds, sliding and stumbling up the muddy lawns.   
"Oh, Hazel, are you still coming to the burrow for Christmas break?" Asked Ron, suddenly. "Unless something major happens, sure I am." Said Hazel. "Mum'll be pleased to hear that, you know she always makes too much. It's like she's feeding an army." Said Ron. "Well I don't see you complaining during dinner." Said Hazel, smirking. "Too busy Snogging the chicken I suppose."   
"Shut up..." mumbled Ron. Hazel made mockery kissing noises. "Hazel I swear-."  
“Mimbulus mimbletonia,”said Hazel, cutting him off. Ron scowled at they clambered through the portrait hole into the common room. It appeared that Hermione had gone to bed early, leaving Crookshanks curled in a nearby chair and an assortment of knobbly, knitted elf hats lying on a table by the fire. Hazel kept throwing Harry anxious glances, but he just silenced them with a fake smile, which Hazel greeted with a scowl.  
Ron went to bed around midnight, he mumbled a good night and left.   
Around twelve thirty the candles in the common room went out, Hazel flicked her wand, her knitting needles fell to the floor, a bright purple sweater still clinging on to them. She noticed Harry was asleep, he was mumbling in his sleep. "Harry?" She asked. "Harry are you ok?"   
She reached out and touched his hand, he stayed asleep, then she held it tightly. She whispered something, then let go.  
She stood up and stretched her back. Suddenly there was a loud crack!   
"Miss Hatter!"  
"Dobby?" Asked Hazel, she stared down at the house elf with large green eyes. It looked as if he was wearing every hat Hermione and herself had made. "Oh! Hello!" he said, happily, holding out his small hand. Hazel took it between her forefinger and thumb, and gave it a good shake. "Hello, Dobby." She said. "Have a good summer?"   
"Oh it was very good! Dobby went to diagon alley. And Dobby got a scarf. A proper scarf! And then Dobby had tea with Winky, though she did nothing except drink Butterbeer, but Dobby had fun, and then we, Dobby and the other house elves, started preparing to this school year." Said Dobby, excitedly. "That sounds very nice." Said Hazel.   
“Yes it was. Oh! Harry Potter, sir!”cried Dobby, noticing Harry. He awoke with a start. “Whozair?”said Harry, sitting upright in his chair. The fire was almost extinguished, the room very dark. “Dobby has your owl, sir!”said Dobby. “Dobby?”said Harry thickly.   
"Oh for..." mumbled Haze. "Lumos." She said, her wand lit up instantly.  
“Dobby volunteered to return Harry Potter’s owl!”said the elf squeakily, with a look of positive adoration on his face. “Professor Grubbly-Plank says she is all well now, sir!”He sank into a deep bow so that his pencil-like nose brushed the threadbare surface of the hearthrug and Hedwig gave an indignant hoot and fluttered onto the arm of Harry’s chair. “Thanks, Dobby!”said Harry.  
“Er . . . have you been taking all the clothes Hermione and Hazel have been leaving out?”  
“Oh no, sir,”said Dobby happily, “Dobby has been taking some for Winky too, sir.”  
“Yeah, how is Winky?”asked Harry. Dobby’s ears drooped slightly. “Winky is still drinking lots, sir,”he said sadly, his enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. “She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower anymore, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir, but Dobby does not mind, sir, for he always hopes to meet Harry Potter and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!”Dobby sank into a deep bow again. Hazel returned to knitting, but watching the boy and the house elf all the same.  
“But Harry Potter does not seem happy,”Dobby went on, straightening up again and looking timidly at Harry. “Dobby heard him muttering in his sleep. Was Harry Potter having bad dreams?”  
“Not really bad,”said Harry, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”The elf surveyed Harry out of his vast, orblike eyes. Then he said very seriously, his ears drooping, “Dobby wishes he could help Harry Potter, for Harry Potter set Dobby free and Dobby is much, much happier now . . .” Harry smiled. “You can’t help me, Dobby, but thanks for the offer . . .”He bent and picked up his Potions book, He closed it. “Wait a moment —there is something you can do for me, Dobby,”said Harry slowly. The elf looked around, beaming. "There is?" Asked Hazel, her knitting needles stopped moving and she sat up straighter.  
"Yeah! There is!" Said Harry.  
“Name it, Harry Potter, sir!”  
“I need to find a place where twenty-eight people can practice Defense Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the teachers. Especially,”Harry clenched his hand on the book, so that the scars shone pearly white, “Professor Umbridge.” Dobby gave a little skip, his ears waggling happily, and he clapped his hands together. Hazel had dropped her wand, as well as the knitting, which had just finished.   
“Dobby knows the perfect place, sir!”he said happily. “Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!”  
“Why?”said Harry and Hazel curiously. “Because it is a room that a person can only enter,”said Dobby seriously, “when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker’s needs. Dobby has used it, sir,”said the elf, dropping his voice and looking guilty, “when Winky has been very drunk. He has hidden her in the Room of Requirement and he has found antidotes to butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle her on while she sleeps it off, sir. . . . And Dobby knows Mr. Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, sir, and —”  
“—and if you really needed a bathroom,”said Harry. Hazel turned and looked at Harry, she covered her mouth, laughing slightly. “Would it fill itself with chamber pots?” asked Hazel. “Dobby expects so, sir,”said Dobby, nodding earnestly. “It is a most amazing room, Ma'am.”  
“How many people know about it?”said Harry, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir.”  
“It sounds brilliant,”said Harry, his heart racing. “It sounds perfect, Dobby. When can you show me where it is?”  
“Anytime, Harry Potter, sir,”said Dobby, looking delighted at Harry’s enthusiasm. “We could go now, if you like!”  
“Not tonight, Dobby,”said Harry reluctantly, sinking back into his chair. “This is really important. . . . I don’t want to blow it, it’ll need proper planning. . . . Listen, can you just tell me exactly where this Room of Requirement is and how to get in there?”

 

Their robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology, where they could hardly hear what Professor Sprout was saying over the hammering of raindrops hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. The afternoon’s Care of Magical Creatures lesson was to be relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to their intense relief, Angelina sought out her team at lunch to tell them that Quidditch practice was canceled. “Good,”said Harry quietly, when she told him, “because we’ve found somewhere to have our first Defense meeting. Tonight, eight o’clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and your friend Alicia?” She looked slightly taken aback but promised to tell the others  
Hazel couldn't help it but to squeal, then she grabbed Harry's arm and hugged him. "I'm so excited! I need to make Dobby a full outfit!" Said Hazel, quietly. "I'm sure Dobby will love that, but right now your cutting off my circulation." Said Harry. "Oh! Sorry, sorry." Said Hazel, smoothing Harry's robes.  
Hermione was staring at Harry.  
“What?” Harry said thickly. “Well . . . it’s just that Dobby’s plans aren’t always that safe. Don’t you remember when he lost you all the bones in your arm?”  
“This room isn’t just some mad idea of Dobby’s; Dumbledore knows about it too, he mentioned it to Hazel and Me at the Yule Ball.”Hermione’s expression cleared. “Dumbledore told you about it?”  
“Just in passing,”said Harry, shrugging. "I don't think he knew what he had discovered, big-." Hazel stopped talking as Harry threw her a look. “Oh well, that’s all right then,”said Hermione briskly and she raised no more objections. Together they had spent most of the day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Hog’s Head and telling them where to meet that evening. Hazel was quite sure, to Harry’s disappointment, it was Ginny who managed to find Cho Chang and her friend first. At half-past seven Harry, Hazel, Ron, and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. HFifth years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o’clock, but all three of them kept looking around nervously as they made their way up to the seventh floor. “Hold it,”said Harry warningly, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase. "Oh, Harry can I do it?" Asked Hazel, smiling. "Uh, sure." Said Harry, handing her the map. "Thanks!" She said. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!”A map of Hogwarts appeared upon the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labeled with names, showed where various people were. “Filch is on the second floor,”said Harry, looking closes and scanning it, “and Mrs. Norris is on the fourth.”  
“And Umbridge?”said Hermione anxiously. “In her office,”said Harry, pointing. “Okay, let’s go.”They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy’s foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet. “Okay,”said Harry quietly, while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch. “Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need.” said Hazel.  
They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-size vase on its other side. Ron had screwed up his eyes in concentration, Hermione was whispering something under her breath, Harry’s fists were clenched as he stared ahead of him, Hazel was absentmindedly folding the corner of the map.   
“Harry,”said Hazel sharply, as they wheeled around after their third walk past. A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Ron was staring at it, looking slightly wary. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door, and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Hazel was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody’s office. “These will be good when we’re practicing Stunning,”said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot. “And just look at these books!”said Hermione excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. “A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions . . . The Dark Arts Outsmarted . . . Self-Defensive Spellwork . . . wow . . .”  
“Harry, this is wonderful, there’s everything we need here!”Said Hazel, clapping her hands excitedly.  
And without further ado she slid Jinxes for the Jinxed from its shelf, sank onto the nearest cushion, and began to read. There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked around; Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had arrived. “Whoa,”said Dean, staring around, impressed. “What is this place?”Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived, and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o’clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. Hermione carefully marked her page of Jinxes for the Jinxed and set the book aside. “Well,”said Harry, slightly nervously. “This is the place we’ve found for practices, and you’ve —er —obviously found it okay —”“It’s fantastic!”said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement. “It’s bizarre,”said Fred, frowning around at it. “We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then . . .”  
“Hey, Harry, what’s this stuff?”asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass. “Dark Detectors,”said Hazel, immediately, stepping between the cushions to reach them. “Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don’t want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled . . .”  
Harry gave Hazel a smile and began to speak.  
“Well, I’ve been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and —er —”He noticed a raised hand. “What, Hermione?”  
“I think we ought to elect a leader,”said Hermione. "Harry." Said Hazel and Cho at once.  
“Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,”said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So —everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er —right, thanks,”said Harry, His face red. “And —what, Hermione?”  
“I also think we ought to have a name,”she said brightly, her hand still in the air. “It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don’t you think?”  
“Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?”said Angelina hopefully. “Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?”suggested Fred. “I was thinking,”said Hermione, frowning at Fred, “more of a name that didn’t tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.”  
"Hogwarts freedom fighters?" Suggested Hazel, smiling.   
There were a few murmurs of agreement, and nods.  
"That's a good-." Began Harry.  
“The Defense Association?”said Cho, quickly. “The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we’re talking about?”  
“Yeah, the D.A.’s good,”said Ginny. “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this. "Ok. All in favor of Hogwarts Freedom Fighters?" Asked Hermione. Hermione began to count. "Sixteen." She said, giving Haze a hopeful look.  
“All in favor of the D.A.?”said Hermione bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count. “That’s a majority —motion passed!” She pinned the piece of paper with all of their names on it on the wall and wrote DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY across the top in large letters. “Right,”said Harry, when she had sat down again, “shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it’s pretty basic but I’ve found it really useful —”  
“Oh please,”said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “I don’t think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?”“I’ve used it against him,”said Harry quietly. “It saved my life last June.”Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet. "Those who feel they are above our teaching methods may leave. I will escort you to the door." Said Hazel, so fiercely she noticed Lavender Brown scoot back a touch.  
Smith did not leave. Nor did anybody else. "Thank you." Said Harry, gratefully. “I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice.” Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. "Hey Neville! Do you want to pair up?" Hazel asked, approaching Neville. "I can't. I'm pairing with Luna." Said Neville, looking slightly dazed. "Oh. Ok." Said Hazel, she walked away. "Hey Dean, want to-?" She stopped talking as Seamus joined Dean.  
Hazel scowled, it occurred to her that she didn't have many friends. Suddenly someone tapped her shoulder, she whirled around. “You can practice with me,” Harry told, Hazel, smiling. "Thanks." She replied, feeling a blush creep up her neck. “Right —on the count of three, then —one, two, three —”The room was suddenly full of shouts of   
“Expelliarmus!”: Wands flew in all directions, missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Hazel was lighting fast, "Expelliarmus!" She yelled. Harry's wand flew into the air, Hazel pointed her wand at it, "Accio wand." She said, and Harry's wand soared into her hand. Harry stared at her with opened eyes, he began to sputter. "Stay on your toes, Potter." She said, tossing his wand back at him. "I daresay you could give a death eater a run for their money." Remarked Harry. "Thanks." Said Hazel.  
“Expelliarmus!" Yelled Nevilles voice. Hazel whirled around in time to see Luna's wand soar out of her hand. “I DID IT!”said Neville gleefully. “I’ve never done it before —I DID IT!”  
Hazel ran up to Neville. "You did it!" She cried, giving him a half hug around the shoulders.   
“Good one!”said Harry encouragingly.  
"Uh, Hazel, you've seen to have it down, can your walk around and help some people?" Harry asked her. "Oh. Me? S-sure." Said Hazel. "Thanks a billion." Said Harry. Harry walked away, and Hazel walked in the opposite discretion. She instantly noticed Lavender Brown, she was trying to disarm Parvati but when she said "Expelliarmus" it can out "Expell-ie-aim-us".   
"Lav-Lavender!" Exclaimed Hazel, as Lavender angrily flicked her wand. "What!?" Yelled Lavander. "It would help if you said the spell correctly." Said Hazel. Lavender's eyes opened wide. "You cant talk to me that way!"   
"Listen, I'm trying to help you! So either shut up and take my advice or leave. Because if you want any respect Lavender, you need to earn it!" Yelled Hazel. Lavender stared at Hazel, who stared even more. "You know what? Out if the pure goodness of my heart, I'm going to help you. It's pronounced 'Expell-ie-arm-us." Said Hazel, then she flounced away. Hazel corrected Seamus on his wand motion, Cormac Mclaggen on his stance, and helped Padma Patil when she accidentally set her partners hair on fire.  
“Okay, stop!”Harry shouted, after a while. “Stop! STOP!”  
Suddenly the sound of a whistle sounded throughout the room, loudly. Everyone lowered their wands. “That wasn’t bad,”said Harry, “but there’s definite room for improvement.” Zacharias Smith glared at him. “Let’s try again . . .” Hazel moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly the general performance improved.   
Something caught Hazel's eye after a while; Cho Change laughing, not laughing but giggling. She then turned back to Harry and began to talk. It seemed an awful lot like she was flirting with him. We had an agreement! Hazel screamed in her head. She stormed over to them, but the second she reached them, “Hey, Harry,”Hermione called from the other end of the room, “have you checked the time?” He looked down at his watch and looked surprised.  
He blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting, “Expelliarmus!”and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor. “Well, that was pretty good,”said Harry, “but we’ve overrun, we’d better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?”  
“Sooner!”said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement. Angelina, however, said quickly, “The Quidditch season’s about to start, we need team practices too!”  
“Let’s say next Wednesday night, then,”said Harry.  
People began to file out, slowly, when Hazel, without thinking, said something she never would have.   
"Harry," she said in a airy tone, a bit like Luna. "Could you help me? I wanted to work on a stunning spell, but I'm no good. Could you teach me? "  
Harry gaped at her. "I-I'm sure you can do it. You're amazing at defense against the dark arts." He said. "Oh, come on Harry... please?" She asked, her eyes larger than usual. He looked at her for a minute, as though searching her to be sure she wasn't pulling his leg, then said "Sure. I can help you. Maybe... tomorrow if we can find time." Said Harry. "Thanks! Oh, you just made my day!" She exclaimed happily, giving him a quick hug, then walking out, following Hermione, who was waiting at the door. Hermione raised her eyebrows so high they dissaperated into he hair. Hazel just smiled, and looked back at Harry, he looked a bit shocked, but had an odd grin on his face. "What was-?" Began hermione, as they rounded the corner, Harry disappearing from sight. Someone grabbed Hazel's shoulder, Hazel turned around. "What were you doing!?" Cried Cho, red in the face. "What do you mean?" Asked Hazel, innocently. "We had an arrangement!" Exclaimed Cho. "You should have thought of that before flirting with Harry. Good day, Cho." Said Hazel, briskly dismissing her. Hazel grabbed Hermione's arm, and pulled her away. "What in the name of Godric Gryffindor was that about? Arrangement!?" Asked Hermione. "Cho And i agreed Harry was off limits during meetings, because we both like him." Said Hazel, quietly. Hermione squealed. "Shh! You already know Hermione! Don't act so bloody surprised." Said Hazel. "I know! But you clarifying it makes it so much more real!" Said Hermione, excitedly. "Yes well, Cho broke the agreement. And she began flirting with Harry. So... I did too." Said Hazel, slowly. Hermione's eyes widened. "You were flirting? You? Why?" Asked Hermione. "Well, I was being all cutesy and stuff." Said Hazel. "Isn't that why he likes Cho?"  
"Well maybe. But if you want him to like you, don't act like Cho, act like Hazel. Be aggressive, straight to the point, brisk, cool, and smart. You know, you." Said Hermione. "If Harry wants Cho for Cho, then he goes to Cho. Be isn't going to go to you for Cho."  
Hazel nodded slowly. "I suppose I under stand." She said. "Oh! The boys are coming!"   
Ron and Harry walked up to them. "Hey." Said Ron. "Hi." Said Hermione and Hazel.   
“That was really, really good, Harry,”said Hermione.  
“Yeah, it was!”said Ron enthusiastically, as they slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. "It was brilliant!" Said Hazel. “Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?” asked Ron.  
“Only once,”said Hermione, stung. “I got you loads more than you got me —”  
“I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times —”  
“Well, if you’re counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand —”They argued all the way back to the common room, but Hazel didn't care, she just kept thinking about practicing with Harry the next day. She wasn't going to do the whole vulnerable act. She was going to kick Harry's arse.

 

The next day, during lunch Harry and Hazel walked with Hermione and Ron until they broke away and made a run for the room if requirement. "Stop, stop, stop!" Exclaimed Harry, in a whisper. Hazel stopped dead in her tracks, Harry pulled them around the corner. "What?" Asked Hazel. "Filch." Replied Harry. Hazel looked down at the Murauders and sure enough a dot labeled Argus Filch was pacing the hall ahead of them. "Now what? We haven't got much time." Said Hazel. "We'll have to come back tomorrow." Said Harry after a moment. "I guess." Said Hazel, sighing. They began to turn away when Hazel grabbed Harry's wrist, and ran towards the hall way where Filch was. "What are you doing!?" Exclaimed Harry in a whisper. Hazel just smiled, then she dug her hand into the pocket of her robes, she grasped something small and round, she pulled them out as she passed Filch who was facing the other way. She chucked them over his head, and as they landed on the ground they made loud cracking noises. "Eh?" Muttered Filch. Then he scurried over to the scene of the noise.   
They ran until they reached the room of requirement, Harry flung open the door and they ran inside, slamming the door behind them. "You are bloody insane." Said Harry, huffing. "Yeah, I know." Said Hazel, laughing. "All right let's get started." Said Hazel, hitting Harry in the shoulder. Harry gave one last huff and followed Hazel to the middle of the room. Hazel whipped out her wand, and pointed it at Harry. "Ok." She said. "Now listen. The spell is Stupefy." Said Harry, pulling out his wand. "On the count of three we each try to stun each other."   
"Ok." Said Hazel, again. "1-2-3!" Exclaimed Harry. They both yelled "Stupefy!". Hazel couldn't move, she was completely stuck. Darn it! She thought in her mind. Suddenly she could move again, she took a step forward. "Wow." She mumbled. "Sorry." Said Harry. "Dont be stupid. I just have to move faster." Said Hazel. "Again?" Asked Harry. "Yes." She replied. "1-2-3!" Said Harry. And again they yelled the spell, Hazel was stunned once more. They tried three more times, each time Hazel got stunned. "Why can't I do it!?" She exclaimed, throwing herself down onto a chair that appeared behind her. Harry walked over to her, and sat in the chair that appeared behind him. "Well... when I stun, if I'm stunning a person I don't particularly hate, I always imagine them as Dudley. It makes it easier to stun them." Said Harry. "Well... I could pretend your Draco... but I'm always mad at him, it might not work." Said Hazel, sighing. "Ok, well then... you'll just have to get mad at me." Said Harry, standing up. He held out his hand to her. She rolled her eyes, then took it, he pulled her to her feet. They walked back to their spots. "All right. Think of something I've done that makes you angry." Said Harry.   
Yule ball. Though Hazel. "Stupefy!"  
Nothing.  
Not defending her against Draco. "Stupefy!"  
Nothing.   
First year, making Hermione feel worthless. "Stupefy!"  
NOTHING.   
"Come on Hazel!" Said Harry, loudly, he was bouncing back and forth now. "I'm just not mad at you!" She exclaimed.   
"You don't really like Cho right?" Asked Harry.  
"No. But I'm not going to pretend you're-." She began.   
"I snogged Cho!" Yelled Harry. Hazel's mouth fell open. She suddenly felt a rush of incredible anger.   
"STUPEFY!" She roared, practically throwing her wand at him. Harry was just about to yell the spell, but he suddenly froze. She stared at him. She didn't move, she kept her icy stare fixed on him.   
How could he even say such a thing? More importantly why did he think that would make her mad? Did he know something? Had he guessed it?  
After a few moments of staring blankly at his face, she flicked her wand, and he almost fell forward. "You did it!" He exclaimed. She was shaking like mad. She hated that those few simple words set her off. She hated that those words made her want to hurt her best friend.  
But most of all she hated Cho.  
She absolutely hated her. And no matter how hard they tried they couldn't be friends.  
Hazel picked up her school bag, and began toward the door. "Hey, where are you going?" Asked Harry. "Oh, erm... we have potions really soon." Said Hazel. "Snape will give us detention if we're late."   
"Haze! You stunned me, literally. Aren't you even a bit happy?" Asked Harry.   
"Well yeah. Er... good job, Hazel." She said, patting her own shoulder. Harry just shook his head and picked up his school bag. "Alright. Let's go." Said Harry. 

That evening Hazel and Hermione were sitting in the common room, Hazel was reading The Eiffel tower murder, and Hermione was knitting. Suddenly Hazel heard Hermione's knitting needles clatter to the ground, Hazel turned her head to see Hermione sitting with her mouth wide open. "'Mione?" Asked Hazel, feeling abit worried. "Are you ok?"   
Hermione's mouth slowly closed and became a sly smile. Hazel raised her eyebrows and stared at Hermione. "I'm ok! In fact I'm brilliant! I've just devised a way for the D.A. to communicate times." Said Hermione, whispering the last part. Hazel closed her book abruptly, and leaned closer. "How?" Asked Hazel. "Well, we might have to contribute some galleons." Said Hermione. "Ok. How many?" Asked Hazel. "One for each member of the D.A." said Hermione. "Ok... I certainly don't have twenty seven galleons on me... I might know someone who does." Said Hazel. She stood up and faced the back of the common room, two red haired boy sat back there, heads pressed together, leaning over some parchment. She quickly walked across the common room, thinking up what to say, quickly. "Fred, George." Said Hazel loudly, as she approached. They both looked up, and Lee Jordan who was descending from the boys staircase groaned. "Run guys, it's the non prefect, prefect." He said, sarcastically. "Shut up Lee." snapped Hazel. Fred and George's eyes darted between Lee and Hazel. Hazel took a deep breath and picked up the parchment they were looking at, she stared at it. "Dungbombs deluxe?" She asked, staring at some blueprints. They nodded. "That's not a great idea. You see your problem is you only look at the prophet. You don't think about the consequences. These bombs are fifteen pounds, thats the first problem, who is going to use that? The second problem is, how are you going to get fifteen pounds of dung? And thirdly what if they hit somebody? It'll knock 'em right out, or worse." She explained. Fred took the plans back and stared at them. "What about five pound dung bombs?" He asked. "That'll just hurt someone. Like getting hit in the head with a football." Said Hazel. "Alright, five pounders it is." He said, crumbling up the parchment. "Now, you can't have come over here just to help us. So what do you want?" Asked George. "We need galleons." Said Hazel. "For?" Asked Lee. "The D.A." said Hazel. "How many?" Replied Fred. "Twenty seven." Said Hazel. "What!?" Exclaimed George. "Twenty- Twenty seven? Hazel! We love ya, but we aren't going to give you twenty seven galleons!" Said Fred. "Shh." Said Hazel. "Don't be daft. I meant fake galleons. You have those trick galleons right? I saw you put one in the corridors, Filch picked them up and it shocked him." Said Hazel. "Well yeah. But they'll shock you." Said George. "Me and Hermione can bewitch them." Said Hazel, simply. "I doubt it'll..." Fred's sentence trailed off as Hazel cocked her eyebrow. "Nevermind. I'll go get the galleons." Said Fred, quickly, then he stood up and ran up to the boys dormitories. "Ask Fred to bring them by the fire, will you?" Hazel asked George. "Yeah. Sure." He said. "Thanks." She said, then she walked back to Hermione. "Did you give them advice on Dungbombs?" Hermione asked, seeming slightly upset. "Yes... but I also got twenty seven galleons." Said Hazel, smiling. "Really!?" Asked Hermione, her eyes widening. "Yup." Said Hazel. "But, we need to bewitch them first, or else they'll shock us. So I was just thinking a counter-jinx. Relecio should do it. I learned that in the second year, it rids an object of a minor jinx." Said Hazel. "Perfect." Said Hermione, clapping. "Yeah, now Hermione, what's your idea?" Asked Hazel. "I was thinking of having the date show up on the galleons...."

 

“You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?”Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of their fourth meeting, in the room of requirement. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. “On real Galleons that’s just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you’re carrying them in a pocket you’ll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he’ll change the numbers on his coin, and because Hermione and I've put a Protean Charm on them, they’ll all change to mimic his.” explained Hazel.  
A blank silence greeted their words. Hazel looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted. “Well —I thought it was a good idea,” Hazel said uncertainly, “I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there’s nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But . . . well, if you don’t want to use them . . .” Said Hermione.  
“You can do a Protean Charm?”said Terry Boot. “Yes,”said Hazel and Hermione. “But that’s . . . that’s N.E.W.T. standard, that is,” he said weakly. “Oh,”said Hermione, trying to look modest. “Oh . . . well . . . yes, I suppose it is . . .” Said Hazel slowly, her face growing intensely hot.  
“How come you two aren't in Ravenclaw?”he demanded, staring at them with something close to wonder. “With brains like yours?”  
“Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting,”said Hermione brightly, “but it decided on Gryffindor in the end."   
"The sorting hat spent a few good moments debating on mr, but then in the end I suppose my bravery and loyalty won it over." Said Hazel, beaming.  
"So does that mean we’re using the Galleons?” asked Hermione.  
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forward to collect one from the basket. Harry looked sideways at Hazel and Hermione. “You know what these remind me of?”  
“No, what’s that?”  
“The Death Eaters’scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they’ve got to join him.”  
“Well . . . yes,”said Hermione quietly. “That is where I got the idea . . ."  
"But you’ll notice we've decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin.” Said Hazel, smiling  
“Yeah . . . I prefer your way,”said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. “I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them.”  
“Fat chance,”said Ron, who was examining his own fake Galleon with a slightly mournful air. “I haven’t got any real Galleons to confuse it with.”As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their D.A. meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretense of sportsmanship, were determined to see their side’s victory. Hazel realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match. “I think you’ve got enough to be getting on with at the moment,”she said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry, Hazel, and Ron and said grimly, “I’ve become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, you three, and I really don’t want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won’t you?” Snape was no less obviously partisan: He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Katie Bell turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library. Hazel felt optimistic about Gryffindor’s chances; they had, after all, never lost to Malfoy’s team. Admittedly Ron was still not performing to Wood’s standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve. His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence when he made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more. On the other hand, Hazel had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form: During one memorable practice, he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle, which Hazel had directed at him with all her might, so hard away from the goal hoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the center hoop at the other end. The rest of the team felt this save compared favorably with one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland’s top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski. Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting that he was related to them, something he assured Ron they had been trying to deny for four years. The only thing really worrying Hazel was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got onto the pitch. "Hey, Mad Hatter! Maybe you shouldn't play this match. You don't look to good... oh never mind, thats how you always look!" called Pansy Parkinson, she began to shriek with laughter. "Oh, I don't look to good? Have you seen a mirror lately, Parkinson?" Asked Hazel, then she began to yip like a dog. Ron, Harry, and Hermione laugh and wiped the smirk off Pansy Parkinson’s face. But Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers, and intimidation. When Slytherins, some of them seventh years and considerably larger than he was, muttered as they passed in the corridors, “Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?”he did not laugh, but turned a delicate shade of green. Hazel glared at them as they passed, clutching her wand.  
"I should jinx them." She muttered. "No... you'll just get detention." Said Ron, sickly.  
When Draco Malfoy imitated Ron dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever they were within sight of each other), Ron’s ears glowed red and his hands shook so badly that he was likely to drop whatever he was holding at the time too. October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly gray, the mountains around Hogwarts became snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so far that many students wore their thick protective dragon skin gloves in the   
corridors between lessons. The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. Hazel woke up grogily and put her robes on, and walked into the common room. She greeted Harry and Ron with a yawn. She noticed Ron didn't look too good. "Ron are you a-a-alright?" She asked in a shuddering yawn. "Mmm." He moaned. Hazel threw a looked at Harry and he mouthed "Nervous." Hazel's mouth fell open. She understood anxiety, but he couldn't possibly have it today, of all days. "Ron," she said, Slowly. "Theres nothing to be worried about you're going to absolutely brilliantly."   
He looked up at her, his facial expression mimics their second year when he was vomiting up slugs.  
The Great Hall was filling up fast when they arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise; Harry looked around and saw that nearly everyone there was wearing, in addition to the usual green-and-silver scarves and hats, silver badges in the shape of what seemed to be crowns. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously. Hazel tried to see what was written on the badges as she walked by, but she was too concerned to get Ron past their table quickly to linger long enough to read them. They received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron’s spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed onto the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal. “I must’ve been mental to do this,”he said in a croaky whisper. “Mental.”  
“Don’t be thick,”said Harry firmly, passing him a choice of cereals. “You’re going to be fine. It’s normal to be nervous.” said Hazel.   
“I’m rubbish,”croaked Ron. “I’m lousy. I can’t play to save my life. What was I thinking?”  
"Ron, shut up and listen! I have anxiety, right now in fact! But I believe in myself! And if you can't believe in yourself, I'll believe in you." A said Hazel.  
"B-b-but-."   
“Get a grip,”said Harry sternly, because it was obviously time for the tougher approach. “Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant —”Ron turned a tortured face to Harry. “That was an accident,”he whispered miserably. “I didn’t mean to do it —I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and I was trying to get back on and I kicked the Quaffle by accident.”  
“Well,”said Harry, recovering quickly from this unpleasant surprise, “a few more accidents like that and the game’s in the bag, isn’t it?”  
"Ron... don't think of it as an accident, think of it as instincts." Said Hazel, smiling, trying the kind approach again.  
Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite them wearing red-and-gold scarves, gloves, and rosettes. “How’re you feeling?” Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them. “He’s just nervous,”said Harry. “Well, that’s a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you’re not a bit nervous,”said Hermione heartily. “Hello,”said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Haz looked up. "Luna! Ooh! I love your hat!" Said Hazel, her spirits lifting quite a bit. Luna had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion’s head, which was perched precariously on her head. “Thank you, Hazel. I’m supporting Gryffindor,” said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. “Look what it does . . .” She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump. “It’s good, isn’t it?”said Luna happily. "That's bloody amazing!" Exclaimed Hazel. “I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn’t time. Anyway . . . good luck, Hazel, good luck, Ronald!” She drifted away. Hazel watched her go, beaming, then Angelina came hurrying toward them, accompanied by Katie, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey. “When you’re ready,”she said, “we’re going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change.”  
“We’ll be there in a bit,”Harry assured her. “Ron’s just got to have some breakfast.”It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Hazel thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms, Harry agreed. As they rose from the table, Hermione got up too, and taking Hazel’s arm, she drew her to one side. “Don’t let Ron see what’s on those Slytherins’ badges,”she whispered urgently. "What do they say?" Asked Hazel. "J-just look quickly." 

PART THREE COMING SOON


End file.
